


Murder and Misconceptions

by sunlightsmarrow



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Charles is a closeted badass, Crushes, Erik has Issues, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Master/servant AU, Muder, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Poisons, Romance, Slow Burn, victorian au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:57:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlightsmarrow/pseuds/sunlightsmarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik Lehnsherr is 6th in line for the throne when he is given some land.  To help him manage affairs and in a way to replace his old butler, he hires Charles Xavier from a friend of his.  But Charles is not as inept as Erik imagined, nor is he the person Erik thinks he is.  A string of circumstances surrounded by tragedy bring these two together despite their first impressions, and Charles begins to show his true colors, especially when things turn nasty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Charles Comes to Lehnsherr Estate

Erik Lehnsherr was approximately sixth in line for the throne. It made him quite a powerful man, prone to pride and sullenness, but not quite powerful enough for him to have anything he wanted. There were servants, of course, who he could order around and took pleasure in coercing, but within the Realm he wasn't the man you'd talk to if you really needed anything to be done about some form of injustice. That person was a good friend of his, a man who went by Logan. 

Now, Logan's household was more extensive than Erik’s, and because of this, Erik could admit some envy. And so when the King had bequeathed him some land, he went to Logan first to see if some of his servants would be well suited for Erik's needs. A bachelor, he was inclined to host many a ball and reveled in good music and good company, and good spirits, much to the maids’ despair, for his pleasant exterior, though often distant, became coercive and rough when he had been drinking, and he often displayed a rough hand to his staff. He paid them handsomely and they lived in the best quarters the Realm could supply, but to say that Master Lehnsherr was a compassionate man would have been generous. 

Logan was often a guest at the affairs of the Lehnsherr household, and Erik knew some of his staff. One of his younger footmen, the boy Charles (though boy was most likely not an adequate term: he was a few years younger than Erik) was of particular interest to him. He wasn't the biggest of Logan's footmen, but he was smart and knew what a man wanted and had been quite adaptable, and if Erik offered a large enough some and perhaps one of his prettiest milkmaids, he may be able to acquiesce a fair trade. And really, if Erik was honest, he’d be happy to have a person with whom he could converse about the things that men must discuss: women, vices, and politics. His current lack of an intelligent companion disturbed him, since his virtual isolation didn’t stand very well against the his old butler, and man who was much less useful than Erik liked to give him credit for. 

And so Erik arranged it. One of his best girls, on top of being lovely, was one of his most useful. He personally went up to get her at his barn where he kept the cows. 

“Sarah,” Erik’s voice was cool and he watched her rise from her position, bent over and righting a milk pail. Her hair was askew and she adjusted her bodice which, like typical maids who worked in hot conditions such as a barn in the middle of summer, was cut extremely low and showed her ample cleavage. She was quite the sight to Erik, but he beat back the blush of impropriety. He had seen her completely naked on his bed, crying and fighting against him, but he usually didn’t think about lapses in his moral judgement.

She eyed him warily and he was forced to refocus on her face, which of course was a lovely feature as well. “May I have a word with you?”

She didn’t move, but allowed him to step closer to her. She hesitated as he raised his hand to touch her face. “Do not be afraid. You’re going away, now.” He didn’t mean it to be a frightening statement, but she flinched and he gripped her arm with his other hand. “Do not fear me,” he hissed, looming over her, their chests touching. “You remember Logan, yes?” He stepped away and held her at arm’s length. His eyes could have been perceived as tender, but he didn’t feel anything for her. She stifled a gasp and backed away from him, staring at the ground before his feet. 

“Does this displease you?” He touched her chin, bringing her eyes to his. Sarah’s lips parted at the calmness in Erik’s eyes. Her cheeks colored and she shifted her weight. “You must. You’re the only one I could get him to accept.” She was also going to report him for raping her, and it was definitely not in her best interest to do so. No one would believe her, with calm, pleasant Erik and his humble means (comparatively), and how she was a maid and of course could get quite a sum from this, and that she’d most likely meet worse fate if she were to leave his charge. 

She trembled and tears filled her eyes, but she broke away from him and followed him to the house. “Get your things. We leave immediately.” Erik shoved her along and she staggered up the steps. 

“Shall I call the carriage, sir?” The butler, Marcus, stepped out of the shadows with a stoop in his back and an odd smile on his face. Erik would be glad to replace him with someone with keen eyes and a taste for vivacity.

“That’ll be fine,” he replied, mind elsewhere. Erik already had a place for Charles, quite near his quarters, a place that hadn’t been slept in before but for guests. He figured that his footman ought to have a place away from the regular servants, as he would be Erik’s personal assistant. The room was simple but elegant and Erik figured there would be worse places to live.

 

Erik and Sarah arrived at Logan’s mansion slightly late, a fact which irritated Erik. He did not help his maid out of the coach, but rather used his height to get to the door quickly before his carriage driver unloaded and bid his lover (of course Erik knew this, he wasn’t stupid) a semi-private goodbye. Presently, the door swung open and a man whom Erik recognized to be Charles but gave no indication of recognizing Erik welcomed him. 

“Master Lehnsherr, Master Logan has been expecting you.” He took a quick glance around Erik to see the remnants of Sarah and the carriage driver’s embrace. Erik had a few inches on Charles, and he made a note of it as the younger man stared. As a typical footman, liveried and clean, he should have no advantage over his master. However, Erik had to admit that perhaps in this lighting his eyes were fairer than his masters, but such a detail could be overlooked because lighting could be a cruel intensifier.

Sarah had caught up and another one of Logan’s staff was tending to the driver as Charles led them into the great hall. The opulence of the entryway gained Erik’s envy and if he had some extra money from the land he didn’t sell after making new detached servant’s quarters, he would most definitely remodel his entryway in the style of Logan.

Charles, of course, was an expert in navigation of this vast estate, and he led them through the great hall, through a dining room, and to the library where Charles announced Erik and his charge. 

“Thank you, Mr. Xavier,” dismissed Logan after pleasantries had been exchanged. “If you may shut the door behind you, I think this is a matter that concerns you.”

Erik did not bother to notice the change in Charles’s demeanor when he returned, but the familiarity between master and servant in this household was utterly repugnant to Erik. Never would he permit a servant to lounge without being invited to sit, and least of all on the third nicest chair in the room. Erik fixed a glare of condensention on the man who would soon be his charge, but gave Sarah a withering look as she apprised both Charles and Logan. 

“Now, your papers are worked out, if neither of you have any objections.” Logan looked between Charles and Sarah, the latter of which looked extremely uncomfortable and the dynamic between them was almost comical if anyone in the room was inclined to laughter at the moment. Erik hardly ever was, and Charles seemed keen enough to withhold something when he met Erik’s eyes for the first time. He had been right. They were insufferably blue and as Erik scanned the rest of Charles’s face, they became increasingly hostile, a look that Erik would not have expected in such a boyish face. 

Sarah shifted and a firm grasp on her hip kept her from speaking and she winced visibly under Erik’s touch. It didn’t get past Logan and he opened his mouth. “Erik, we are friends here.” A grunt was all Erik dared to respond. “I want you to know that for your companionship, I am offering my best man, who has been well trained and accustomed to favorable care. If you are for some reason reluctant to make this exchange, we may terminate it at any time.” The threat behind it was obvious, and when Erik finally slid his gaze back to Charles, he felt predatory and felt hesitation on Charles’s end, but he kept his mouth shut and fixed his gaze to the large oriental rug.

“Is this clear?”

“Perfectly,” Erik practically snarled. He didn’t need Logan telling him how to treat his staff. If Charles did as Erik pleased, there would be no issue. If he caused no issue with guests or other members of the staff, there would be no need to reprimand him. Erik didn’t much like the clumsiness of his staff, but he hoped that the arrogance this boy showed him was to intimidate Erik, as if Charles was too good for him. Inwardly, he scoffed at the idea.

“Now, if that will be all, I would like to take my footman and be on my way,” said Erik standing. Logan rose as well, the years he had on Erik slowing him. Sarah and Charles reluctantly got to their feet as well and exchanged disparaging glances. 

“Come, Charles.” Erik offered a faint smile and ignored the sneer that was threatening to show on Charles’s red mouth. Erik wasn’t appreciating the color in his face, from the rosiness of his cheeks to an obscene looking mouth to those eyes. He looked like a whore and Erik nearly wondered if Logan had his men made up to look more youthful. It simply wouldn’t do in Erik’s household, and thus when Erik and Charles mounted the carriage, Erik assumed a dominant pose, legs splayed and arrogant face turned toward the window as Charles fidgeted with his hands. 

“I can imagine what Logan told you,” began Erik, eyes not meeting the startled orbs that searched his face in alarm. “It is for you to determine my monstrosity, but I can not guarantee that the rest of the staff has a favorable impression of me. I would not say that I am unfair, but I am ruthless.” At length, Erik swung his gaze to Charles, whose fear was etched in his face. “I am not a man to fear, dear Charles.” The words nearly surprised him. He hadn’t called anyone that in quite some time and he gaped a moment at the color that rose to Charles’s cheeks. The colors on the man’s face were no ruse by Logan. His wet, worried lips were that red and his eyes were that crystalline blue and his cheeks were fully-bloomed roses. But God, was he pretty.

They rode in silence to Erik’s mansion and alighted. Erik caught Charles gaping in wonder and was curious to reconsider the boyish tendencies of him. Such a specimen could hardly be called a man if he rivaled most women in Erik’s acquaintance, but it truly was of no consequence. 

“Welcome back, Sir.” Marcus pulled the door open with a struggle and looked to Erik and his younger charge as they walked into the entrance hall. Erik felt an irritation at the plainness of his home in comparison of where Charles had come from. 

“Thank you, Marcus. I believe you have been introduced to our footman, Mr. Charles Xavier?” A brief wave of his hand indicated that they make pleasantries as Erik self-consciously critiqued his home. He didn’t dare say that it wasn’t good enough for his footman, but he was serious about improving it with any extra money that he had. 

“If you may, Charles.” The younger man came after him, trunk in hand as he followed his new master. 

“Sir,” his voice was soft in the echoing hall. Erik broke stride at the voice and wondered why this boy was plaguing his mind. Jealously, surely, of the obvious charm that radiated from his pores. He’d surely be someone with whom the maids wanted to become acquainted. There would have to be rules, and Erik hated making rules. Or at least, he’d have to find a way to keep the wenches away from him. Not that it mattered, but Erik couldn’t have Charles impregnating his workers. 

Erik hummed in response and inclined his head in Charles’s direction. There was a long period of silence, and when they approached the entrance to Charles’s quarters, Erik turned on his heel, settling his hands behind his back and fixing Charles with a look down his nose that took the boy aback. A bemused smile flicked across the master’s face, and Charles didn’t dare betray the discomfort that Erik knew he was causing to crawl under Charles’s pale, unblemished skin. 

“Did you wish to say something?” Puffing his chest, Erik was the picture of intimidation, a game that he quite enjoyed playing with people who posed a threat. His steely gaze had little effect on his pretty footman, who had schooled himself to have a defiant gaze back to his employer. 

“Nothing that you wish to hear, sir.” His words cut through the air and Erik was surprised at his gall. He flashed a toothy smile and Charles returned it with a disarmingly sweet one. 

“These are your quarters. I hope they are suitable.” Swinging the door open, Erik gestured for Charles to enter, which he did somewhat clumsily, his trunk bashing against the door frame. An abashed look crossed his face and he peered over his shoulder to see if some sort of reprimand would come from Erik, but if Erik had noticed, he didn’t let on. Charles hoisted his things onto his bed, which was a spring frame with a thin mattress. The rest of the room comprised of a desk, wardrobe, wash table, and dresser. A window gave a view of the driveway and forest beyond. The summer’s day was coming to a close and the trees were just starting to yellow in the late August sun. 

“As my companion,” Erik’s voice cut through Charles’s silent observations. “I expect you to accompany me, dine with me, and aid any guests. You are not a footman in the most common sense of the word, Charles. Do not abuse this privilege, if I may remind you of a severe punishment.”

“If I may, sir,” interrupted Charles, that brazen look returning to his fair features.

“By all means. I welcome any opinion.” That wasn’t entirely true. Erik welcomed opinions that did not offend what was right in the world, specifically what didn’t infringe on what little power he had. He wasn’t about to surrender anything Charles, but he needed the man to be comfortable around him if anything was going to be achieved. He knew Charles wasn’t unwise enough to speak out of turn.

“Allow me to remind you that Master Logan--”

“Master Logan does not run this house, Charles. I do.” Erik’s jaw clenched with irritability and his eyes flashed with briefly concealed rage. “I do not know what sort of relationship you had with Logan, but I assure you it will be nothing like what you find here. I do not suffer fools, Charles.”

“I was not suggesting foolishness, Erik.” Charles cut the ‘k’ harshly and if there was anything that would have made him beat the insolent boy and send him back to where he came from, it would be if he used his master’s Christian name against him. Charles could see this in his face and the sheer terror of bodily harm was evident. He stammered as he went on, color lighting up his cheeks, which brought a flush to Erik. “I will not be treated in the same way you treated Sarah.”

“I would assume not. I don’t plan to take you drunkenly.”

Charles stared at him, blue eyes widening. His mouth fell open, red and horribly tempting and Erik had to shake himself. He wasn’t interested in masculine wiles. He knew those who were and they did not tend to make it out of this world with their heads, and so anything that was remotely favorable for a man with such disgusting disposition was quickly squashed. They were there, Erik knew, when he’d fuck his maids (such an ironic term) and see men beneath him, but he wasn’t such a heathen. He feared God, and he feared the Crown most of all.

Charles attempted to sputter a reply but couldn’t manage to make the words come out of his mouth. “Sober?” managed to eke it’s way out, but that brought color further on the line of his cheekbones and Erik refused to betray the cause of the flush of his chest. 

“If you propose that I am a sodomist, I ought to reconsider your employment.”

“Perhaps you ought to,” replied Charles coldly. He held his ground when Erik crossed the room and hardly flinched when he backhanded him across the face, nearly causing him to fall onto the bed. His ears rang from the contact and he felt something hot against his lip and when running his tongue along his bottom lip, he tasted blood. Reeling, he raised his hand to his master, but was ineffective in securing a blow because Erik was there in his face, condescending eyes glaring down at Charles. 

“If you strike me, boy,” he spat, bits of spittle being flung into Charles’s face, “I will not be liable for any punishment you may incur. I am your master, and you will respect me.”

“Any master,” began Charles, a sneer rising to his lip, “who must remind his employee of his stature is no master of mine.” His voice lowered to a growl before he shoved his shoulder against Erik and moved past him to his bed. 

“If you impregnate a maid, Charles,” said Erik, apparently ignoring Charles’s statement, “you will be immediately dismissed.”

“It will be no concern of yours, sir,” replied the shorter man, his voice indicating that there had been no previous feud between them. “If you’re not intending to take me drunkenly, I’d not--” He stopped speaking, unsure if he wanted to continue it further. 

“Please, Charles,” scoffed Erik. The boy refused to meet his eyes, and so Erik turned and left the room, letting the door slam behind him.

Exhausted, Charles fell onto the bed and touched his fingers to his lips, wincing at the pain. 

 

Erik’s stormy demeanor carried him down the hall to his own quarters where he rang for Marcus. The man took an abysmally long time to get there, but when he did, his tired face was compliant, such a sheer contrast to Charles before, whose defiance filled his smaller frame to nearly bursting. Erik wondered how Logan had managed to tame him. Perhaps Logan was a sodomist, but fortunately for him allegations bore no weight and one had to be caught in the act to bring up any real charge.

“A good scotch, sir?”. Marcus’s calm voice cut through Erik’s rumination. The master offered a genuine smile this time at Marcus’s mind reading ability and clapped his butler on the shoulder, ignoring the wince that old age brings in feebleness. 

“Our best, if you please.”

Erik began to disrobe when Marcus left the room and had put on his nightclothes when he returned with a bottle and a glass and a bucket of ice. Setting it down on the table, he managed a weak smile before departing.

“I'm glad to depend on you, Marcus,” uttered Erik suddenly, interrupting his departure. “If you'd be so kind to show Charles the house tomorrow, I have some business to attend to.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Will that be all?”

“It will. Good night.” Erik threw back a swig of the scotch he had poured himself, restraining a grimace at the burn in his throat, hot and spreading under his skin from his chest and belly like he had suddenly become a furnace. How odd to have such a feeling from such different sources in one day.


	2. A Trip Into Town

From his window, Erik watched Marcus and Charles walk the estate. Charles, Erik had noted, managed enthusiastic attention while he was sure Marcus gave a lengthy and detailed account of the place. Before the wars, the Lehnsherr Estate was something to behold: sprawling buildings and fields, spacious rooms, and a level of splendor that for the day was of the highest calibre. However, when the groups from the south came, the Mutants, they called themselves, they lay waste to the entire place, as well as young Erik’s family. Erik only managed to escape by swearing to the Mutants and acting as liaison to the ‘humans,’ as they were called, something that as they gave him more and more power he was wont to do. Usually it was as simple as killing an outlier, and because of this Erik quite enjoyed his titular role. He wasn’t quite the sort of person to do his dirty work, and so perhaps if Charles proved trustworthy or capable, he may be a candidate, since Marcus was quite old.

Charles was interested in what Marcus had to say. He knew that the people below Logan were essentially mercenaries, and to that extent the rage that lingered behind Erik’s eyes was quite startling. Knowing that Marcus had been his man for years was also interesting as he spoke of how he had to facilitate many a murder in his time and make poisoning look like accidents. Charles wondered why Erik treated him so poorly.

“My time here is nearly up,” began Marcus, transitioning out of his conversation. “I believe that when I die, he will look to you to take up his cross.” Marcus turned to face Charles, looking up at him through his wrinkled face. “I was youthful like you when Master Lehnsherr’s father and mother were slaughtered. I had tutored Master Lehnsherr, and he was quite a bright boy, but once he came into the estate, we went mad. The drinking, the rape, the beatings…” Marcus winced at the thought, or perhaps a memory. “All of these came from his parents one way or another. His father was a good man, mind you, but prone to drink and promiscuity. His mother…” Marcus sighed. “You are a smart boy, Charles. You know the ways of marauders.”

Charles’s jaw clenched and he formed a fist. He could imagine a young Erik watching as the Mutants ravaged his mother, and the rage in his eyes and the reputation from downstairs made more sense. He was a murderer, even if he didn’t do the work himself. The comment the night before made matters worse, if Erik preferred both males and females, in which case Charles would need to be quite careful at the balls that Erik so often provided.

The afternoon sun was high in the sky and Marcus turned toward the house. “I believe it is time, dear boy to prepare a lunch for our master.”

“If I may, sir,” began Charles, “What is the purpose of the waitstaff here? Does not Erik use them for the upkeep of his estate?”

“He has no cook. They are for maintenance and what little money he makes from his cows. His funds are not very constant, I’m afraid, but he manages to value his staff enough to treat them with sober responsibility, even if his roughness breeds contempt.”

They entered the kitchen and found Erik there enjoying a pot of tea that he had brewed for himself. “Sandwiches, sir?” Marcus headed for the pantry and procured some bread and the other things required for such a lunch. 

“Fine,” replied Erik, fixing a stare in Charles’s direction, specifically on his lips. They were still a little swollen from last night. “Could you get something for Charles’s mouth? I don’t want the swelling to cause any issue.” The strange tenderness in Erik’s eyes made Charles smile his thanks, but Charles could feel the tension between them as if Erik would be likely to pounce on his prey if he found him breathing in some offensive manor. Knowing some of Erik’s background, much of his training was required to not divulge that he knew the horror that Erik was continuously put through.

“I trust you had an informative session with Marcus,” the master prompted, looking up into Charles’s warm blue eyes. “And I assumed you’ve learned something about me in the process.” Charles wanted to fling himself from his rooms with with the look in Erik’s eyes. It was almost apologetic, and there was a sort of empathy that shook Charles. Erik wasn’t supposed to look welcoming and safe. He was a Lord, for Christ’s sake, and he ought to be commandeering, one who slaps his servants when they are being rude. “I know he told you. God, you’ve been keeping twenty feet from me since you came in here. But fear…” He looked up at Charles from moving to the sink to rinse out his cup, “Is a powerful thing. If you can make people afraid, they will let you do anything. Charles, I need you not to be afraid.”

So Erik wanted him to be his own person. Not being afraid of Erik meant not being afraid of his punishment, and Charles didn’t quite like being struck. This wasn’t making much sense to him, but if Erik needed him to get over being afraid of being torn to shreds once he stepped into this house, then he might need some time. But why would Erik need Charles not to listen to him?

“Yes, sir,” replied Charles. He pressed a slab of meat supplied by Marcus to his lips and gazed back at his master, mouth open and red and eyes full of something that made Erik straighten. Marcus got working on the sandwiches. 

“You know how to cook, correct?” Erik asked, tearing his eyes from the obscene sight before him. Charles actually laughed. His ribs strained against his black waistcoat and he leaned toward Erik from his perch on the butcher block table, the brilliant white of his shirt brushing against Erik’s shoulder. 

“I was not proposing a joke, Charles.” Erik glared irritably at their closeness. Charles’s look was defiantly flirtatious. 

“I’d be happy to conjure whatever you want me to, Erik.” He took the slab of meat off of his lip and licked the juices from his lip, not breaking eye contact.

“A word, Charles, if you please.” Erik pushed away from the table and was halfway into the hall when he heard the reply at his back.

“And if I don’t?” Charles was lounging on the table, shoulder slouching and a playful look in his eyes. He did expect Erik to come at him, and so when his master was close enough, he leaned forward and threw his arms out, bracing Erik at arm’s length and letting the steak fall to the floor with an undignified splat.. Erik struggled against him, but Charles held strong until he suddenly dropped him, letting a struggling Erik fall between Charles’s splayed legs. His face fell against Charles’s shoulder and Charles took the opportunity to whisper, “If you don’t want me to be afraid of you, I don’t think you’re being very helpful.” His voice was nearly a growl and Erik straightened himself, shrugging his servant off.

Marcus cleared his throat, placing a plate of sandwiches on the table as well as a few glasses of milk. “Sirs…”

The trio sat down together, Erik and Charles on opposite sides of the table and Marcus at the head, something that in other circles would have been considered incredibly impolite, but in this case, the master and his young servant ought to have been separated lest they strangle each other. They ate in silence, the two younger men exchanging venomous looks across the table. Marcus wolfed his sandwich and headed off to to work, suddenly reminding the men at odds that they were, in theory, companions. 

“I suppose you expect an apology, eh, Charles?” Erik raised his eyes, his voice cutting through the silence between them. Charles didn’t respond at first, but thoughtfully chewed and took a sip of his milk before swallowing. 

“You said you value opinions?” Charles reclined in his chair, warily eyeing Erik. A path in his conversation was made, but he wasn’t sure how Erik would react. He had been thinking this through since Marcus had mentioned the cause that Erik worked for. 

“It is a philosophy of mine that intelligent, informed opinions ought to be discussed.” Erik mirrored Charles’s pose, eyeing the lean form in front of him. It was so unassuming, and the lithe movements were what were so unsettling. That, and the ferocious intelligence that was evident in his face.

“I’m afraid, Erik,” Charles paused, meeting his master’s eyes. He did not detect the same negative reaction as the first time he used his master’s Christian name, and so he did not amend, “That the discrimination that the Humans face on behalf of the Mutants, and vice versa, is not something that should be alleviated by murder.”

Erik blinked at him. Questioning the Crown was punishable by death, and here was this footman in a government employee’s house telling him that the very thing that he worked for and his very job did not line up with his moral standings. At least the boy had gumption, something good for a person who would be murdering within a year, if Marcus’s health continued to decline. “I beg your pardon?”

“I really ought to be begging yours, but I do speak treason.” Charles’s demeanor hadn’t changed. He may have been talking about the history of Lehnsherr Estate or the cold that was soon to be coming in winter, and yet here he didn’t know Erik for twenty four hours and he was discussing treason over lunch.

“I know what your political position is. I also know what your financial position is, and I know all about Marcus’s career.” Dear God, if Charles was planning to blackmail his employer for some sort of gain, Erik would have feeble-minded Marcus kill him at the next meal. “And I would like to propose something.”

“Charles, think very carefully about what you are about to say. You do realize that if I do not approve of this, not to say I will be approving, I could instantly have you hanged.”

“My life is not relevant to this cause, dear Erik. I felt sorry that you saw your best maid leave, but I was not sorry to leave Logan. His employ did not afford me the opportunity yours does.”

“And what opportunity is that?”

“Advancement,” he responded ambiguously. “I will not say the word, though you know what I mean. She’s tempting, I know, and I can secure her for you.” Their sandwiches lay forgotten on the table, but Charles carelessly swatted away a fly that feasted on a crumb.. 

“You know I can not do that. What if someone were to find out?” Erik’s voice didn’t change, but the look he gave Charles was etched with fear. This boy was capable of murder, and willing to do it for Erik because murder was in Erik’s job description. Of course, he must be asking permission to murder Erik as well, which Erik wasn’t exactly for, but that wouldn’t make sense, unless Charles had something else planned. And he realized that his words weren’t saying no. They were fearful of the consequences, and that in itself was a horror.

“I am dropping the subject, Charles. I have been planning a ball for some time,” he said, changing the subject. He refused to touch the rest of his food, eyeing his subordinate with caution. “And I think it would be best for us to go to town today and purchase some decoration. Something cool should suit in the dregs of summer.” Charles hadn’t taken his gaze off of Erik’s face and Erik felt a blush creep up his neck. 

“Fine,” he replied noncommittally. He leaned forward, bracing his arms on the table and he picked up his sandwich, examining it. “Marcus would have no reason to poison these, right?” Charles sent Erik a knowing look and Erik’s cool demeanor faltered, his face paling. 

“No, I don’t believe he would, Charles. Why?” Erik’s voice was quiet yet fearful, and at this point, Charles realized that in matters of life and death, he may very well have the upper hand. “Should I be concerned?”

“Always,” replied Charles, “but in this case, I believe we’re fine. I’d suggest that we send Marcus away, though. He’s not overly fond of you and knows quite a lot about your background. He had an affair with your mother, to boot.”

“I’m sorry?” Erik rose to his feet, leaning over the table with rage in his face. “Do you propose that my mother was a common whore?”

“Certainly not.” Charles started out of the room and headed toward the entrance hall. “Erik,” he began, once again noting that there was no bad response. “Mutants are ruthless folk and when they came to these lands, you’ll remember, they held themselves to a strict code to keep them distanced from us. The idea was that we’d die out on our own, by either planning revolution and being murdered or the hellish lives they’d provided us with would serve to render our women infertile and our men suicidal.”

“And you’re proposing that what I witnessed was not my mother being raped by a Mutant? I was there, Charles.” His rage was manifested now, and he grabbed Charles by the shirt and shoved him against the nearest wall. 

“You seem to be getting friendlier,” he smiled, the cheeky grin spreading across his boyish features and Erik was going to kill him and he was going offer that treasonous mouth to the Mutants and they were going make him king. He told Charles so, and Charles could only laugh in his face. 

“Are you finished, Erik?” Charles struggled against the weight of the bigger man and managed to shove him off. “I do believe it is getting late in the afternoon and the shops should be closing for the Sabbath.”

And so they went, once again not speaking, but it was more on Erik’s end than Charles’s, who was teasing and playful as they rode, each on a separate horse this time, since it was too much effort to bring the coach around and they were good for some exercise. Charles would canter ahead and wait impatiently for a glowering Erik until Erik handily knocked Charles off of his mount with a clever flick of the wrist at an opportune moment when Charles’s ear was in reach. But soon, the two men were laughing and nearly enjoying themselves.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” amended Charles, drawing their horses together and leaning in in a conspiring way.

“The least intentions are often the most harmful, Charles,” pontificated Erik with some form of wisdom, whether false or sincere, Charles couldn’t qutie tell. “But I can not hold it against you. Marcus has been kind to me, and so I do not wish to hear that he was planning something.” It wasn’t a question of what Charles meant, but more that he was looking to trust the man who was supposed to be his friend. “We should speak of this later,” he added, “When my mind is farther from this sting.”

They reached the town and entered the florist. The woman behind the counter offered a smile to Erik and eyed Charles with professional interest. “A new man?” She flicked her gaze back to Erik and stood a little straighter under his irritated blue eyes. 

“Charles,” the shorter introduced. “Just arrived yesterday. Master Marcus is teaching me yet.” Erik nearly snorted with the charm that he exuded. The woman behind the counter blushed and took Charles’s extended hand. He bent to kiss it and she nearly swooned. Erik moved along to finger some of the merchandise, running his hand along some supple, warm colored cottons. 

“Your opinion on drapes, Charles?” He could hear them flirting aimlessly behind him and he cut through, feeling irked. 

“I abhor them. You can’t hide a thing,” he replied, a soft, knowing smile on his face. Erik’s stomach clenched at the implication and he moved onto some squashes that were in a barrel. “Some of these, perhaps, for the mantle in the great room?”

“You maids, have they any skill with their hands?” Charles shot a carnal wink toward the girl behind the counter and Erik found himself blushing again. “Perhaps they could make a wreath?”

Of course, thought Erik, Charles would tease in front of this girl. She was pretty enough and Erik knew her mother. He watched the girl giggle and some sort of anger brewed up in him, but it was strictly because of the inefficiencies in their trip. “Of course they are. I’ve only really utilized them for Christmas, but I’m sure they’d enjoy some time inside.”

For a moment, Charles wondered why he was the only one not treated like livestock at Lehnsherr Estate, but at the same time he knew his position and he was the third highest ranking in the house, but at the same time, wondered how exactly Marcus was planning on killing Erik. Him treating Marcus poorly was subliminal, he knew, because Mutants were loyal to a fault. There was no reason for them to assault his mother, and so the only person there at that time, the only person Erik had known since childhood had to have been Marcus. How else would Marcus have known that they took Erik’s parents away before they murdered them? And now, with Charles here threatening to break Marcus’s ties with Erik’s family, it would be best for Marcus to inherit the estate as quickly as possible.

But the girl behind the counter, Elizabeth, she said her name was, was clutching Charles’s arm and wheezing a giggle. She leaned in, her breath warm against his cheek, and whispered something that didn’t register in his ear as he watched his master watch them. His face was red and a sort of snarl played on his face and so Charles pulled away from her, much to her dismay. 

 

“Perhaps some of the vines in our garden may suffice, and some of the lace there to touch up the windows and tables.” Charles expertly fingered a piece of lace that had flowers made into it. “Old fashioned,” he said, “But elegant,” his eyes met Erik’s and there was something behind them but Erik wasn’t sure what it was. 

“Elizabeth,” called Charles, looking over his shoulder and flashing her a soft smile. Erik felt some warmth grow in his chest and he recognized the feeling, but didn’t dare attribute it to what he thought it might be. He was not interested in Charles, not after his insufferable, treasonous ideas. Not after his haughty eyes and physical games that he played with his master. Charles wasn’t one who would be easily beaten into submission. Erik needed a drink and a fuck and he would be set, but both were entirely unattainable at this time. He watched his servant rattle off some dimensions for tables and how Elizabeth watched his mouth eagerly for each utterance and something inside of Erik wanted to claim it. He wanted to claim Charles, or perhaps brand him and bar him from anything that anyone would throw at him. He was no innocent, but he may as well have been Erik’s own child with the way that his temper flared with this girl. 

“Can you have them delivered by…” Charles trained his gaze on Erik. “When did you say the ball was, sir?”

“Two weeks Friday.” His voice was flat and he seemed distracted, and he watched Charles touch the girl’s arm as she walked away from him and she winked back. Erik could pummel someone or vomit, and both would have been divine. 

The two men left the store and returned home. The sun was low on the horizon by the time they had reached the beginning of the driveway and when Erik glanced to his left down into Charles’s face, the sun kissed it with a yellow tone that flecked his eyes with gold along with the brilliant raw sapphire that was ever-present, and his lip was nearly purple with the cut he himself had inflicted, a marking in and of itself. Erik could imagine that the roles would be reversed. He knew he was rougher looking, more gruff. He could see Charles as the fair-featured prince and Erik as the laborer, and how different it would all be...how odd to think that such a gentle person (if his treatment of women was any indication) would be so willing to murder the entire Crown and feared for his master’s life. Erik wondered if Marcus would last the week with the suspicion that Charles had for him, and murder was hardly punishable under Mutant reign since threats to the Crown were easily justifiable.

God, what was Charles thinking? He would die, surely, if someone learned of his ideas, and Erik had to protect him. Perhaps deep down, Erik understood and agreed, but he couldn’t. That thought couldn’t exist in his mind, or else he surely would be removed. 

Erik refocused on the road ahead of them and was returning to his thoughts of drink and women when Charles interrupted him, nearly like a mind-reader.

“Does something trouble you, master?” The soft, gentle voice didn’t fit. Someone who could kill someone in dozens of ways didn’t have the opportunity to be charming and gentle and all of a sudden, Erik realized what was going on in his body. Tonight, he would be very drunk and find the nearest maid and make her his for the night.

“I am very tired, Charles.”

“Should I prepare something for you, sir? Logan loved my coffee, and I can bake up some cookies. You may watch if I make you nervous.” Charles’s playful tone wasn’t very comforting, but perhaps being saved from his vices would be protection enough for the both of them. And God, did Charles make Erik nervous, but not for being poisoned. Charles had an incentive, but something told him that Charles wouldn’t want to.

“As your companion,” began Erik, noting Charles’s startled look at the reciprocation, “I think it would be good for us to spend some more casual time together.”

“I’m glad we are of the same opinion, Erik.” A genuine smile fell across Charles’s face, and Erik nearly fell off his horse, but that would require Erik to look away, and his eyes were glued to Charles’s face. To explain the look on it would mean using terms like princely cherubic, and he wouldn’t dare use that to explain a princely cherub, and so he would not use it on Charles.

They returned to Lehnsherr Estate and worked together to stall their horses. Brian, Sarah’s lover and the carriage driver brought down alfalfa for the horses while Erik and Charles took time to brush them. Upon finishing, they went together to the kitchen, dark but for one of the gaslights lighting the far side where the front of Lehnsherr Estate welcomed any traveler, not that any ever came.

Charles rooted through the cupboards to locate eggs, flour, sugar, and some chocolate. He began to mix the ingredients together while Erik stoked a fire in the oven. He poured him and his servant some wine and put the glass in Charles’s outstretched hand. He mixed the ingredients while Erik watched, leaning against the table. He watched Charles’s shoulders twist as he distributed the dough on the cookie sheet. He turned, cast a look at Erik, and shoved the pan in the oven. Next, he filled the kettle and set out the coffee grounds. 

“I’ve never heard of wine and coffee,” the younger man admitted, wine in hand. 

“To learning many more things, Charles.” Erik lazily raised his glass and clinked it against Charles’s and took a sip. They stood there staring at one another at length when there was a pounding at the kitchen door. 

“Master Lehnsherr!” It was Brian, Erik recognized. He called his master’s name a few more times and Erik was quick to push off of the table and wrench the door open, finding a very distressed-looking coach driver. 

“Dear Lord, boy, what is the matter?” Erik ushered him in and handed him the glass of wine in his hands. The man drank greedily and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He looked at Charles, a grimace turning his features. 

“Sending Sarah away was a mistake, Master Lehnsherr.” He rose, emboldened, and started toward Charles and Erik was unmovable as Brain wrapped his slender fingers around the poker that Erik had left in the fire and rose it to Charles’s face. “This assassin…” He spit the words and Erik wanted to spring into action to save Charles from a possibly imminent death. Had Brian overheard? The poker was inching closer and closer to Charles’s neck and soon there was an inhuman scream and the smell of burning flesh and Charles fell.

Erik suddenly moved as Charles’s writhing body hit the floor. He wrestled the poker from Brian and grabbed him by the collar, swinging him around and bending him backwards over the table. “Charles has done no such thing, Brain. Speak plainly before you attempt to murder my footman.” Erik punctuated his rage and concern by snapping his arms and pounding Brain’s head against the Brain if he gave no reason for assaulting his friend. In a fit, Erik wrapped his fingers around Brain’s throat and felt the shifting in his throat as he began to squeeze. 

“Master Marcus,” hissed Brain through the pressure on his airway. Erik released him some and Brian rose, his face close to Erik’s. “He took sick this afternoon after you left. Didn’t need anyone, he said, until he was too busy choking on his own fluids to speak” Brain swung his gaze back to Charles and he shoved past Erik and kicked him swiftly in the ribs, making him cough and curl up in a ball. “And you killed him,” hissed Brain. He spat in Charles’s face and grabbed the back of Charles’s head, slamming it into the cold tile floor and knocking him senseless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!


	3. A Latent Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some sexual tension.

When Charles came to, he found himself nuzzled in heavy wool blankets with a warm cup of tea on his night stand. He moaned softly at the ache in his head and touched his fingers to some bandages, their gauze coarse against his fingertips. He lunged forward and immediately regretted that decision. The pain made him fall face first onto the bed, but at least now he was in range of the mirror. He pulled himself up to examine what had happened. 

He had been stripped down, naked to the waist. His face was white and there was a rose of blood on his scalp where his head must have hit the hard stone floor a while before. There was a dark, angry spot on his neck and it hurt when he moved his head as the skin stretched there and Charles remembered the most painful moment of his life as the poker seared into his flesh. A few green and purple bruises peppered his ribs. He was a sorry sight.

“Good to see that you’re in the land of the living,” greeted Erik warmly enough as he entered Charles’s room unceremoniously, a tray of toast and butter in hand. He had a forced smile on his face and concern in his eyes. Setting the tray down beside his charge, Erik sat next to him and buttered a slice of bread. He handed it to Charles and helped him ease back onto the bed. A strange sensation came over him as Erik’s hand found Charles’s forehead, long fingers and wide palm stroking gently. The skin-on-skin contact was warm and Charles couldn’t quite move his neck to lean into it, but he still inclined himself to the touch. 

“How do you feel?’ Erik’s voice was gentle and Charles couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going on in that mind of his. He wondered if Erik considered what would be yet another reason to have Charles executed, and if Erik kept massaging his scalp, there would be a third reason, as well. At this point, Charles hardly expected to last the year with his treason, accusation, and soon-to-be sodomy.

“I ache, but I can work.”

“Hardly,” scoffed Erik, “A doctor looked at your head and it’s a blessing you didn’t have major damage. He’ll come around as soon as I send word that you’re awake.” The hand on his head stilled but for tucking a strand of hair behind Charles’s ear. The fingers ghosted over the shell of his ear and Charles visibly shivered.

“You’re cold?” Erik shifted and locked eyes with his employee.

“No,” responded Charles, eyes briefly falling to Erik’s lips, and then away where those oceans wouldn’t give him away so easily. He felt a blush creeping up his skin and wanted to be stabbed through with a poker rather than feel Erik’s warm fingers wrap around his forearm and stretch his hand open. “I want you to know,” began Charles with caution, “That I did not murder Marcus.” 

Erik sighed, and he was close enough that Charles could feel it as it came over his blankets and into the rest of the room. “I know you didn’t, but the law will see you as a suspect.” His quiet voice matched the way his fingers danced in Charles’s palm.

“And you are the law,” muttered Charles, realizing what position Erik was in now. 

“You’re a neat case, Charles.” Erik was staring into the distance, his mind elsewhere, but stilled hand still in Charles’s palm. “Unless you can pin treason on Marcus.” Erik fidgeted with his hands, picking at the dirt under his nails. He flicked the grime to the wooden floor and added with a dismissive tone, “but this house will be running two men short, and because of that and the planning that must be done for land development and the upcoming ball, I will need you. I’ve supplicated the Crown to permit me to have you as an aid, given that you will spend all of your time with me until you prove your innocence.”

“You think they will accept?”

“Logan processes these things, dear Charles.” Erik would have uttered a curse under his breath for letting the term of endearment slip by, but Charles would wonder all the more and so he kept his mouth shut. Lapses in affection were not what Erik Lehnsherr was prepared to do, and so he continued. “God is a personal friend of ours,” he muttered with a wry smile.

“But if God is men, men are doomed,” Charles pontificated. Erik glared at Charles, his patience wearing thin. He had compassion for the boy, no doubt, or perhaps something a little stronger than that, but he was having a hard time working with the traitor for all of his insolence. Erik clenched his jaw and Charles looked like he wanted to say more, so Erik decided it would be best to let his employee dig himself into a bigger hole. 

“Erik,” began Charles at length, “I think you ought to know something, if you’re looking for a confession.” Charles feebly wrapped his fingers around Erik’s hand when he tried to pull away. “Please,” whispered Charles, his thumb caressing Erik’s index finger. “I think you ought to know before this escalates further.” Those damned eyes looked through thick lashes to a man who could justify all means to put him to death, and here was this man stroking his hand as if they were lovers. Realizing this implication, Erik tore his hand away.

Charles took a sobering breath and looked his employer in the eye. “I realize that I have spoken all manner of ill against the Crown, but I need to make one thing perfectly clear to you before we continue here. It is grounds for immediate dismissal and possibly execution, and so if some charge is brought against me I want you to know of my vulnerability of being a sodomite.”

“Charles, really. You ought to stop telling me things that will get you killed.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he was surprised when Charles laughed, rich and deep and gasping, which turned to a grimace and soft groaning of the pain that his laughter had caused. “I can't presume Logan knew so much?”

“Logan didn't have the thirst in your eyes, Erik.” Charles’s warm gaze disarmed his master and he verbally faltered, a pesky blush rising from his chest. _Damn his honesty_ , thought Erik. If only Charles knew how much he couldn’t, wouldn’t dare to defy what he had. Charles didn't know from where the thirst came because he wasn't necessarily interested in more responsibility. Power was good. Power was everything for the Crown, and a sadistic part of him (albeit large) wanted to take that power away, but the more pressing issue was right before him.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Erik’s uncomfortable shift nearly made Charles laugh, but for the sake of his ribs, he contained himself. 

“Servants are talkative people.” A knowing look made Erik pale. He recalled an instance when he had, in fact, uttered the name of a man while deep inside a woman. He didn't remember either of their names now, but at the moment it was quite embarrassing and damning, and if his staff knew what Charles who hadn’t been here two days knew, anyone who didn't like him, which was many of his staff, could lead to a detrimental end.

And suddenly, it all made sense. 

“Oh, Charles.” Erik’s breathing was.labored as he realized what exactly Charles meant and if he was on board for anything in his life, it was this. He didn't remember pressing his lips to Charles’s forehead, but Charles did and the flush of pleasure that moved up his bare chest that was half-bared to Erik lit up with a blush that drew his employer’s eyes downward to the pale, silky skin that was nearly gold in the late afternoon light.

“What? Surely my execution is eminent. I did not kill Marcus, and I don’t know where to begin--”

“Charles.” Erik’s grip was tight on his servant’s forearm and the color in Erik’s face was altogether too pale. “You are not going to be executed. I will not let it happen. Not so long as you can help me. I fear that something more sinister than we’re imagining happened this afternoon. You had no opportunity to murder Marcus.” The sound that came out of Erik’s mouth was akin to a sob and he was actually starting to look a little green around the edges. “We’re going to have to investigate this further. But you ought to get your strength up,” he said, staggering to be erect before his servant. “We have work to do.”

~~~

Erik’s estate was not the most opulent, but its meagerness was overshadowed by the splendor that Charles had orchestrated. The touches of lace were lovely in the large windows and the flowers that adorned the table played nicely off of the white and gold place settings. The gaslights hung high over the table, illuminating the walls while a massive chandelier, a whole 50 small lights illuminating the ceiling. 

“You’ve done good work, Charles,” said Erik two weeks past the incident in the kitchen. Later that evening was the ball and Charles had been examining the final touches when Erik had interrupted. Those glacial eyes raked over Charles’s face and he felt the color rise in his cheeks. Spending so much time with Erik by order of the Crown led to a growing intimacy between them, but Charles had noticed a pointed difference in Erik’s behavior. Any sort of touching caused a reaction as if being burned on Erik’s end. Scorn was starting to fill Erik’s eyes as he looked at Charles: the furtive glances in the corridors, the evening dismissals as Erik crawled into his bed and Charles on his mat on the floor (a mandate for this sort of arrangement according to Realm law), and even now, where tone and kinesics suggested intimacy.

“Thank you, master,” replied Charles submissively. He wanted the tenderness from that evening when Brian had assaulted him, and he was searching for a hard motive on Marcus for treason, but it was hard for him to pin a rape that happened years ago. “Will Logan and Sarah be in attendance?” Erik glared at the hopeful servant’s face.

“Any reason it should matter to you?” Erik spat his words and Charles dutifully looked stung. The answer, of course, was yes, but if Charles was honest he missed his former employer..

“I don’t believe that’s a concern of yours.” The menacing look on Charles’s face made him drop the subject, writing Erik off as irritable. “I’d suggest you bathe and get dressed in order to receive our guests tonight.” The master turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, only to pause in the threshold. “And Charles,” he said, barely turning to address his servant, “Do have that neck of yours covered up. We don’t want anyone to think that you’ve been having too much fun here.”

Charles scoffed and turned back to his work. He moved about the room, righting this and that until the place was to his satisfaction, everything perfectly arranged and glimmering in the soft light. The sun was just starting to set and the guests would be arriving within a few hours, and so it was with little haste that Charles returned to his chambers and stripped down. Erik had been posting someone outside of Charles’s room at all times, but with the extra help needed downstairs for food preparation, the alcove before his door was empty. Charles knew that Erik’s room was down the way and something stirred in him, a sort of freedom that he could go into his master’s room unannounced and catch him in whatever act he was partaking in. He maintained innocence, of course, as if Erik may be supplicating the Crown in his favor, but as he closed the door and locked it, his ears told him something else.

A soft rocking of springs and the slapping of skin and moaning...Charles choked back something that resembled both a sob and hysterical laughter. A sigh escaped his lips and he fell back against the wall, hopefully lightly enough that it didn’t alert them of his presence, but has he closed his eyes and unbuttoned his shirt and vest, he heard this growl come from Erik’s mouth and his thrusts intensify as the woman beneath him stuttered a cry. 

“God, yes,” fell from Erik’s lips, and Charles shuddered as he fingered the button on his pants and rolled them down his hips to pool at his ankles. He stepped out of them and filled a basin with water, lathering up his face with shaving cream and his body with soap. He’d have Erik perhaps call for a bath, but obviously that was out of the question as Charles’s interested cock and Erik’s occupied one didn’t bode well for a traipse across the hall. His was a modest cock: not very thick or long, but if his former escapades were telling enough, he was quite capable with it. As water trickled down his face and pattered down on his half-full manhood, he wrapped long, capable fingers around it and gave it a squeeze, his head falling back and his eyes fluttering shut at the blessed contact. The moans an cries behind him were growing to a climactic crescendo and as he stroked lazily he watched and felt himself harden, velvety and like steel at the same time. 

“Mmm...my beautiful Charles...mine!”

Charles’s hand flew off his dick and his hand hit the washbasin, sending it and the pitcher crashing to the ground and shattering, water spreading quickly over the floor. “Holy shit,” uttered Charles, his cock standing proudly now and bobbing as he stared at the mess before him on the floor. It was eerily silent next door and with a sharp cry and a sputtering apology Charles heard the door slam and hurried steps rush down the corridor. 

Charles cleared his throat and scrounged up his pants, wet and sopping, as well as his shirt. He forewent the vest and threw the previous on, shoving his cock back into his trousers and leaving his shirt mostly unbuttoned. Taking a sobering breath, Charles headed out into the corridor and padded down to Erik’s room, his feet cold against the tile floor and his toes curled against the friction of his semi-hard self. He wondered what he would find on the other side of the door: messed sheets and a disheveled Erik, all wrecked and beautiful and still glowing with a post-orgasmic haze and a fogginess in his usually acute stare, and perhaps some bruises on his neck and chest where his ardent lover sucked and bit at him. God, just imagining it was riling Charles once more.

His rap at the door was quick, one that implied urgency but not a dire situation, for it was accurate. He waited, hands shoving into his wet pockets, making the fabric stiff and uncomfortable. The legs of his trousers hugged his quads and calves and the rubbing he felt as he shifted insisted that he get out of them as soon as possible when suddenly Erik appeared from his room.

Charles wasn’t entirely off with his assumptions. Erik had thrown a shirt on, but it was open, showing the tell-tale bright red marks on otherwise immaculately white skin. In the cool lighting, he could have been a blushing maid awaiting her lover, for Erik, not only exhibiting his magnificent flesh, was watching Charles with those glacial eyes that frankly raked down Charles’s body and he realized that he was the sight to see.

“What--” Erik cleared his throat and fixed a half-heartedly angry stare in Charles’s direction. It failed to intimidate and if Charles was honest it was arousing to be looked at with the desire thinly veiled on Erik’s face. But Erik’s voice was broken and as he cleared it, Charles waited, watching shamelessly as a soft pink crawled up from the waist of his Master’s pants to his ears, tingeing them brilliant against what Charles remembered to be unbearably tempting skin.

“What,” clipped Erik, “do you want?” Erik's arm was braced on the edge of the door, opening his chest to Charles and giving off an air of strength and dominance and if Charles didn't do something, anything, he was going to explode, and so he opened his mouth and began to speak.

“I need a mop, sir,” he finally tore his gaze up to his master and found him drinking in every aspect of Charles’s physique. A chill ran over him separate from the chill of the clothes sticking to his body. The desire so evident in Erik’s eyes was going to drive both of them mad. “And a new basin and pitcher, if you please.”

“Show me.” That growl was there in the back of his throat and Charles took a step back into the hallway (not necessarily to lead his master to his room) and Erik countered in pursuit, his long legs closing some of the distance between them. They were close enough to feign intimacy and as Erik’s gaze dropped to Charles’s worried lips, he thought Erik might kiss him.

Of course, Erik possessed some form of self-control and kept his lips to himself. He stalked, catlike, into Charles’s room where he found the mess. “A bout of clumsiness, I assume?” The soft smell of sex lingered in the room, wafting off of Erik and reminding Charles what he had been doing that caused such an accident. Perhaps the room was drafty, as Charles may have just noticed his window being open, but Erik’s peaked nipples, hard and dusky pink were evident against his toned chest. If only Charles could reach out and touch him…

And again, Erik was staring waiting for a response and Charles worried his lip once more and he swore some sort of whimper came out of Erik’s mouth.

“That wouldn't be untrue,” answered the shorter man, a facet of his physique he was now pleased to observe. Charles could feel the blood rushing out of his body to his cock, pooling low in his belly, and he vaguely wondered if this amount of arousal was okay with his injury but God, if Erik would only stop staring at him as if he’d like to devour every last inch of his servant. Charles pressed a hand to the mark on his neck, a nervous habit acquired when he was recovering from his injury. Erik stiffened and opened his mouth.

“I shall have these brought up. Have you a lead on who killed Marcus?” Erik was a master at changing the subject, thought Charles. He hadn't spent too much time on it but he recalled that the first point here was to make sure that treason was pinned on Marcus. A master of poisons could have easily wanted his master dead for some gain, and while Charles knew that wasn’t the answer, it was neat and perhaps Marcus had made a mistake with arsenic or some other sort of killer. The body had been buried quickly and no autopsy made, but Charles knew a poison when he saw it and Marcus most definitely hadn't taken his own life, for the amount was clumsy and hardly anyone bludgeoned themselves over the head when they had already consumed enough for a man twice his size.

“Suicide,” ruled Charles with certainty. Even Erik knew it couldn’t be true, based on physical evidence, but Charles’s trial would be easy enough if it weren’t for Brain, who most definitely didn’t have the best intentions in Charles’s regard, which made sense. Erik had taken away his love, and Charles was quickly becoming a favorite of the enigmatic, relentless master. Erik was still a brute to his servants, as Charles had witnessed, but his softness toward his closest companion was a source of envy for many of the staff below Charles.

“Brian is concerning,” added Charles in a conversational tone, but Erik’s face darkened and Charles was made aware once more of the issue on his lower half. 

“What concerns me,” growled Erik, coming closer so that their faces were inches apart and all Charles could really see was those eyes, icy and pale and boring with some sort of seethingness that may not have been hostile, “is how uncomfortable you must be in those clothes.” A pointed glance at the bulge in Charles’s pants made him blush deeply and he leaned forward some, eyes falling to those lips that he was sure minutes before were ministering to someone else altogether, but at the same time, it nearly drove him over the edge knowing that it was Charles he wanted, and not the sweet, slippery velvet that rolled off of him with every movement. 

“Perhaps it would please you for me to remove them…” Erik could feel Charles’s breath on his mouth as he continued to inch forward and what he wouldn’t give to crash them together, to press that lithe body against the wall and ravish it, peppering him with nips and kisses all across his neck, chest, and collarbones, claim a hard pink nipple in his mouth and suck it until Charles began thrusting against his leg, desperate for some sort of contact or release.

But the sun was falling and there wasn’t time, and it would change their relationship and be much too obvious when they came down together, each smelling of the other, and so Erik pressed his hand against Charles’s bare chest, the heat there nearly too much for him to handle, and for the first time in days, he realized, he had touched his servant. The way that Charles responded, a light sigh falling from his ruby lips and even a gentle thrust at the air proved to Erik that when the time came and they had enough time, he would bring about the apex of Charles’s pleasure, even if it sent him to the executioner, for someone as beautiful as he deserved every happiness.

At that time, Erik would come to realize, he fell in love.

But for the time being, he said, “Ready yourself, dear Charles.” And this time, he didn’t kick himself. “If you want to wash your face in my basin, I’ll be ready for you to help me in five minutes.” Once again, his gaze fell to Charles’s painfully hard cock. “And we will address these other matters later.”


	4. The Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May or may not be putting this on hold just for a tiny bit because I need to write some Poe Dameron/Finn fic and it's eating at my soul so brb.

Charles was first to descend the stairs that led into the main hall, grand and lovely in its marble simplicity. The gaslights that lit the balustrade gave a golden glow and as the pressed Charles looked over the crowd amassed, staring at his starched collar and pressed black lapels, he wanted to shrink away from them, knowing what he was and how they all could assume his bachelor status. If only they knew he was destined for eternal bachelorhood, how different their friendly smiles would have been.

But it was irrelevant, for right behind him was Erik and even Charles had to turn and look. He hand helped Erik choose his cufflinks, a pale blue to match his eyes with a pearl linings to match the buttons on his shirt. Charles, just minutes before, had tied and straightened his cravat that frilled gracefully against the muscular chest that Charles had wanted to devour not an hour before. 

Erik clapped a hand on Charles’s shoulder and smiled out to the crowd before them. He wondered how much they looked like a groom and a best man awaiting a bride as they smiled together, taking in the shimmering lights and the luxurious gowns of the stunning ladies who blushed at the two bachelors. Erik’s hand fell and briefly pressed against the small of Charles’s back, a solicitous wink flashing across his features before leaving his companion and greeting the highest lady of the party, the Duchess Raven, a gorgeous Mutant who was known for her power, manipulation, and sexual prowess. There was little secret that she and Erik had been engaged, but she had broken it off, realizing that his wealth was in fact less than hers. She was fourth in line, or at least her husband was. She hadn’t been tainted by pregnancy as of yet, and so her tight curves and firm breasts maintained themselves, and these things did not escape Erik’s attention as she rose on her toes to kiss his cheek.

Charles was at Erik’s elbow and cleared his throat as their stare lasted longer than he deemed appropriate in this context. A flicker of what he was not able to call jealousy rose up in him and he wanted to say that it wasn’t there, but the attraction that he felt for the man was something that he wouldn’t deny himself. 

Erik kissed Raven’s hand and moved along to the next set of people, a group that Charles recognized. Erik spoke to Logan, and Charles saw Sarah behind him, dutifully quiet as she searched the room, undoubtedly for Brian. Charles knew that he would be serving dinner, and had made an attempt to tell the maids who set out the seating arrangements to seat her with him, but whether or not they did was another matter altogether that he didn’t particularly care for. He and Erik would have to sit with Raven and her man, Hank, who was impressively intelligent combined with brutishly strong. 

Logan was pleased to see Charles and told him so, and Charles took his late master’s hand with an air of formality that Erik considered with curious eyes. He recalled some of their conversations and what Charles had told Erik that he hadn’t told Logan, and he recalled the reason: “He didn’t have the thirst.” For power or for Charles Erik did not know, and so he filed it away under the enigma of Charles Xavier.

They continued to make the rounds, exchanging pleasantries and making introductions of Charles, whom many recognized but didn’t know had changed hands. The man was charming and polite and Erik found many ladies interested in his bachelor status, particularly the ladies maids, all of whom were aid to the women of lower social class than Erik. The thought of women marrying up annoyed him because he would lose heavily from it, but as the two men broke off in their separate paths for cocktails and pleasant conversation, Erik found himself constantly searching for his companion, waiting to catch his eye and then one of them would blush furiously and find something fascinating with a shoe. 

“Master Lehnsherr,” it was Brian, his voice urgent as he called out to his employer. Erik turned to find him immediately, and was frankly surprised to see a flushed Sarah beside him. He seemed to be glowing with excitement and Erik’s stomach lurched. The amount of smells around him could not mask their fresh activity and he felt his cheeks light up. His eyes hardened back to the same stoic, harsh look that he reserved for those who did not have any favors to grant him or that weren’t a certain Charles Xavier. He drew himself up to his full height, hard and menacing as a familiar coil of anger rose in his gut like a snake to a charmer’s tune.

“I have some happy news, sir.” Brian laced his arm though Sarah’s, and errant fingers slipped across her ample breast, nearly bursting from her bodice as if a show intended just for Brain but unfortunately observed by all. It was lower than usual, noted Erik, further evidence of their escapade.

“Please, enlighten me.” Erik’s voice was void of enthusiasm as he watched the happy couple. Such a show sickened him and he watched Sarah blush. He remembered causing it on her, the feel of her under his hands as she squirmed under his weight and the way she was so tight around his drunken cock. It was good that he chose her to leave because she would have been his ruin in an instant, had Marcus found out; Marcus, who treated her like a daughter. Perhaps that, too, would contribute to the suicide case for him such that he couldn’t be with his favorite maid. She had been on the estate for so long, since she was a babe, left there and found by Marcus. Such sad circumstances proved her meekness, and the way she would throw herself around, but none of it mattered now. 

“I have asked Logan for her hand in marriage, and he accepted. We are to be married.” His winning smile was about to be struck off of his presumptuous face when a light touch of his arm brought Erik out of his rage. Fuming, he wheeled and found Charles standing before him, clean and elegant with Raven on his arm. Her fingers ran back and forth on his forearm and she had a dark look in her eye. Charles, on the other hand, had flushed skin and an odd twinkle in his eye and a languidness to his movement that implied a lack of sobriety.

“Why, if it isn’t our little assassin,” muttered Brian to his fiancé. She considered Charles for a moment, her eyes falling to the burn mark that he inexpertly covered with his cravat. It had fallen lose and now he was forced to acknowledge the injury. Assaults among servants were not uncommon, but the reasoning behind this assault would not bode well for a new servant whose ideologies were rather precarious.

“Dear, what a mark, Mr. Xavier. How did you manage that with the care Master Lehnsherr is giving you?” A snide tone and a sneer were what faced Charles and with a quick glance he saw Erik’s jaw tighten and felt his hands ball into fists beside him. “Surely not some lover’s escapade?”

“I believe you know the answer to your question, Mr. Selsburger.” Charles tried to keep his emotions in check but he felt anger and trepidation fill him as the alcohol coursed through his veins. Another testing comment and he wouldn’t be sure he could contain himself.

“Yes, but not the reasoning behind why you have it. What exactly would make someone want to harm such virgin skin?” A pointed look in Erik’s direction caused great anxiety. The two were under fire. Raven’s fingers had stayed on Charles’s arm and the cordial smile Brian was offering was infuriatingly charming and innocent.

“Murder.”

The word hung in the air like the stench of sex before them, rolling off of Brian and Sarah and perhaps just a hint of it off of Erik, and Raven drew away completely, a shocked expression on her face that no one saw because they were all fixated on Charles and Brian. A good amount of people had silenced themselves at the word and Erik was the one holding arms now, his grip tight where Raven’s had been before.

“I’d advise that you kindly keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut,” hissed Erik into Charles’s ear, his breath hot. Any other time, Erik’s anger would have been erotic, but now it was a warning of not stepping too far. 

“Murder? Dear me, of whom, dear Charles?” The phrase had him looking once more at Erik and his paling face gave him away so badly that he excused himself from the situation, leaving Charles’s side, leaving a void between them that had the younger man ready to throw punches any which way he could. 

“Marcus.” The cloudiness in his head was enough to utter the name. He knew not to venture into his ideas, but perhaps with enough questions, the honesty of drunkenness would seep through. Damn, he had been an idiot. He hastily looked around for Erik, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Sarah screamed. There was an overall gasp from the crowd and Logan stepped through the fray to Charles’s side, but it was too late. The young man had lunged forward, his drunken fists flying and hardly glancing blows across Brian’s face. Before any real damage could be done, Logan had pulled Charles off and before it could begin, it was over. Sarah helped right her fiancé, and a slightly swollen lip was all he had to show for his trouble.

Logan whirled Charles around and had his face close-by, meeting too-blue eyes as rage filled them and Charles fought with his lean body against the bulk of his ex-employer. “Listen to me, kid,” the gruff voice roused the young ruffian and Charles focused his gaze, staring down the unruly hair. “Pull yourself together or you’re going to be in deep trouble.”

“He killed him,” muttered Charles, his gaze flicking to Brian. “I don’t know why but he did because Marcus—it’s too convenient that he found—ahh fu--“

“Charles Xavier.” Erik’s voice boomed over the room, the eerie silence preceding causing the crowd to jump. Erik Lehnsherr was back, the menacing man who beat his servants and had no love for anyone but himself. His flashing eyes fell on a vaguely incapacitated charge, wet mouth and shiny eyes and hair askew. He looked pale, and the mark on his neck was purple and angry where the blood rushed too slowly in his body, the alcohol impairing his breathing.

He looked beaten when he raised his eyes to his master, sweetly pale skin looking even paler against the black of his suit and the soft glow of the gaslights God, he’s pretty, thought Charles as he looked up to his furious employer. And Erik refused to acknowledge the beauty of his employee; how wrecked he looked and how sorely beaten as he hung his head, eyes now closed as if he were asleep standing up, and when he looked back up at Erik it was with a need so strong that Charles actually staggered forward, his feet guiding him to the base of the steps. He faltered on the first one, and with a soft raising of his hand, Erik stilled him.

“Charles Xavier, I am thoroughly disappointed in you.” Erik stared down at Charles with spite, contempt curling his lip and anger once again coiling in his belly. Fear lurked there, too, as he glanced to Brian, holding his fiancé close and looking for a reason to cut Charles down more than he had already disgraced himself. He hated Brian for making him do this, but it was the safest way for them to get away without any sort of suspicion, and so it had to be done. “You have disobeyed my orders to remain sober, to not engage in physical conflict, and—“

“He killed him,” slurred Charles, his vision starting to go fuzzy. He didn’t recall having so many drinks, but perhaps they had been particularly strong. Charles knew what it was like to be drunk and perhaps it was the emotions running through him, so strong and fast, that he felt different, like he was spiraling out of control with no end in sight, just a dizzying, swirling, nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t know why he had interrupted Erik, but now the feeling of dread was prominent as his master descended the steps rapidly, his shoes sliding against the marble as he reached the last step, his chest near Charles’s face and Charles played back the memory of what he thought of, what he knew when he saw that same chest bare before him, pink with soft ginger curls that trailed up his belly and across his chest an how he planned, one day, to listen to Erik’s heartbeat after they had made love. His drunken thoughts came to a standstill as a hand struck him across the cheek. The sting railed him and a startled cry fell from his lips. He was being turned around now, pressed forward to latch onto the balustrade, and his long fingers gripped the cool marble as he felt stiff leather come down on his back. Charles wept.

If Erik was streaming profanities, Charles wouldn’t have heard. He heard not the gasps of the women who hid their children’s eyes and covered their ears. He ignored the fainting women. He even ignored the tears that rolled down Logan’s eyes. All he saw, all that he could be cognizant of as he felt the welts rise, raw and angry on his skin (the skin, he recalled, Erik had wanted to claim and devour) was the malicious glare and the self-righteous smile that was on Brian’s face. It was with a final blow that Charles felt his fingers beginning to slip on the marble and he felt his muscles seize. This wasn’t right. This was not what drunkenness felt like because his muscles should not be so tense. The tears of pain and betrayal and hurt turned to a strength that formed in his core and he rose. 

All of a sudden he could hear another man weeping. It snapped Charles from his reverie and as he turned to find the source of the sound, he saw Erik, his Erik, so strong and masterful, and he was a wreck, covering his eyes and weeping openly, muttering apologies and pleas and at this point, everyone at the ball looked damned confused. Charles rose to the occasion and cleared his throat.

“If you will please,” he began, everyone’s attention immediately falling on the red and blotchy face, the azure eyes, and the ruined jacket, “Please proceed to your seats. I am sorry very much for the scene that has come before you tonight, but.” And here, Charles gagged, realizing what he had to do in order to cure himself, for his mind was regaining its sharpness. He knew what had happened to him and he knew what he had to do to cure it, and so he pressed on, “I promise we will make up for it. Now, let me attend to my master, and we shall join you shortly. Anyone with personal offense may speak to my dear friend, Logan, and he will register all complaints to us for our apology.”

Charles turned and crouched beside Erik, who was staring at him dumbfounded. Charles grabbed him by the arm and raised him to stand next to him and practically dragged him up the steps. “I know you said you wanted to discuss this later, Erik, but something grave has nearly just happened.”

They reached the top of the steps by now and were hidden from view. Erik pressed Charles against a wall, lifting him off the ground by his lapels and shaking him violently. 

“If you think that I will be made a fool of again,” he choked, a sob escaping his perfect lips, “You are sorely mistaken. I have half of a mind to trade you back, you insubordinate imbecile. What in God’s name were you thinking? You could have gotten both of us killed and I was trying to make an example of you but I couldn’t because I actually care about some—“

“May I finish?” Charles shook him off and swayed on his feet and for a moment, Erik thought Charles would kiss him, but thankfully he did not, for Charles lurched to the side and vomited into a potted plant. Once he finished, he shoved his hand down his throat and make himself do it again until he dry-heaved, indicating that his stomach was void of its contents.

“Need I call a doctor?” Erik’s face was full of concern, but Charles brushed him off. Erik noticed the color returning to his friend’s cheeks and it ignited a flicker of hope inside of him, burning softly in the hollow of his chest.

“Not at all. That’s all required for purging that poison. I should have no more poor side effects, but I must admit that Brian is damn clever for poisoning my drink. I should have been more careful.” Those soft eyes returned, hearty and smiling and Erik knew that Charles would be okay, and so he started back to his room, making a face at the stains on Charles’s shirt. Once they reached their quarters, Erik helped Charles into his room and helped him strip off his soiled garments: shirt and jacket, cravat and waistcoat, hands being careful not to linger on the soft skin covering toned muscle. He muted the soft little gasps as once more those rosy nipples came into view and the gentle curves where muscle joined bone moved with the shrugging of his shirt off his shoulders. Erik knew Charles was watching him stare, but he couldn’t satiate his need for this man. He had a firm grip on his being, an odd sort of connection that was like a second sense of knowing when Charles was around or being in tune with how he was feeling. Shaking himself, Erik turned him around and assessed the damage on his back. It was red and tender, but no real harm had been done, as he had intended. 

“You know why I did it?” Erik ran a hand absently down Charles’s back and watched him shiver. “I didn’t want to, you know, but your own Logan suggested it. He knows, Charles. He’s an observant man and we are lucky that he doesn’t care. And if you continue on with your plan—”

“I’d kiss you, but it would be repulsive,” interrupted Charles, turning and facing his master, arms wrapping around his neck lazily. He played with the hair at the base of Erik’s head and searched his eyes. “The way you’ve looked at me all night, how you say you love me and yet you hurt me…damn it, Erik. No sane man could tolerate it.”

“Please,” uttered the master to the servant, eyes sliding shut at their chests being pressed together, the way that Charles’s expert fingers found sensitive places on Erik’s neck that he didn’t even know he had. “I need you to stop, please, Charles. I need you to tell me what you kn---oh.” The last word turned into a sigh as one of Charles’s hands trailed down and pressed their hips together, the idea of an erection pressing against his hip and the soft movement of his hips promising something much more devious than their current engagement.

“Fuck, Charles,” moaned Erik, pulling away and distancing himself at the other side of the room. “You could have gotten us killed and you keep distracting me from what is at hand here. You say that Brian murdered Marcus, and yet you have no proof.”

“Who else would want to murder me? He’s learning about poisons, Erik. He’s making it look like a poisoner like me would be doing this, but it’s so inexperienced that it couldn’t be me. How would he know that I am a poisoner? Well, if you’d recall Marcus and I were walking and Marcus told me about his duties toward you. Naturally, I would divulge such information. I had learned it as a boy as part of my family’s anti-Mutant upbringing, and Logan had warned me that my tenure here would be much different that at his estate. It would not be unusual for a stable hand to overhear such conversation.”

Charles moved toward his dresser and pulled out a clean shirt. It was of much lower quality, but it was clean and starched and it would suffice, and as he pulled it over his lithe muscles, he found Erik watching him. He hated the look of need on his face, and if it were any other night, then he would love to indulge, but as of right now he needed water and he needed food and he was having neither and so he kept talking, hashing out what made sense in his head. 

“And so he killed Marcus. He’s not the most intelligent person, as you know, but he knows he wants Sarah. And I don’t know why but if that means killing Marcus and it means killing me, then so be it. And you recall I mentioned that Marcus had an affair with your mother?’

Erik grunted, unhappy with Charles’s sleuthing methods. Marcus was dead, and that was what mattered, but Charles felt like pursuing the object and Erik didn’t know why, but a kindling of interest was rousing in him and he wanted to listen to Charles at length for whatever he had to say. Even the damn voice, a high baritone with a soft lilt and beautifully shaped vowels had him enraptured. 

“I do believe you mentioned it. I can’t speak for it anymore, because I can’t see Mutants being incapable of rape. They never wanted to mate. They wanted to dominate and defile my mother. That’s why they killed her after the hated one spilled himself inside of her.” Erik choked on his words, anger brewing up inside of him. He was about to continue when a sharp knock on the door prompted his silence. Erik reached out for Charles’s hand before standing, the brief contact enough to send a shock through both of them.

Logan stood at the door, clean and polished as he called on his hosts. “They are waiting supper for the masters of the house,” he said with a wink. A wide grin spread across Charles’s face and Erik echoed it, a gesture that made Charles’s heartbeat quicken. 

“We shall deal with these issues later?” Charles teased from hours before, before an attempt at his life was made, before they learned that Logan was on their side, and before they learned that somehow, Marcus, Brian, and Sarah were all linked.


	5. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a big chapter, so you have been warned. Also, I would be shamelessly suggesting that you read something else that I wrote, but there's some comment drama going on so if you want to look at it, mosey on over to my page. It's Poe Dameron/Finn fic, and

The evening was drawing to a close. The guests had left and Erik and Charles had helped some with the cleanup, but now they were in Erik’s room cleaning the stench of socialization off of themselves. Erik had opened his shirt and his cummerbund, jacket, and cravat were keeping each other company on the floor. Charles had merely lathered soap on his face and was scrubbing it away when Erik finally opened his mouth to speak.

“I know this evening did not go as planned.” It sounded like an apology, and Charles was happy to take it as one, but he verbally brushed it off. “No. I acted like a brute to you. This is a massive burden on me, you realize. I’d rather not have you executed or murdered, furthermore, and I would most certainly like to hear your ideas of ascension. But you understand that I couldn’t let people know that I tolerate and encourage insubordination at my house. I assume you plan to kill everyone above us.”

“If I must,” replied the shorter man, who was patting his face with a towel. “I believe I can make them see. We already have Logan. I don’t know if it is his loyalty to me or if he sincerely feels that the Crown is oppressive, but we have him, and I wouldn’t take him to betray us.”

“And you’re so sure I won’t?” Erik stared at Charles down his nose, a challenge radiating off of him. 

“I’m fairly certain you would have outed me by now, with the myriad of opportunities you’ve had.” A knowing smile crossed Charles’s features and he was beautiful again as he craned his neck to splash water on his face. When he emerged from patting himself dry with a towel, he found Erik staring at him, desire once again in his eyes and Charles caught his breath.

“One would think one was fancied with that look.” Charles tossed the towel aside and stepped a little closer, hands daring to reach out and touch Erik’s bare chest, fingers trailing up over the soft curls there to scratch behind his neck. Erik hummed at the sensation, throwing his head back and his mouth falling open and his arms snaked around Charles’s waist, pulling them closer, and suddenly Erik snapped his head forward and moved so that their foreheads rested together.

“The heady temptress would not be making a misconception.” Erik bit his lip and all he wanted were the wet lips of Charles Xavier, the insistant dominance that he would try to force out of him, the way that he would moan and squirm under the physical demands of Erik’s lovemaking, the way he would curl into him as they fell asleep together, and the way all of that tight little muscle would become plaint under his touch. Erik needed Charles as fluidly and naturally as breathing, wanted him more than the power that this assassin offered him, and if anything were to get in his way of loving Charles to his fullest extent, he would not hesitate to destroy it.

In the odd way that Charles’s brain worked, he pulled away.

“It is interesting to me that a lawman would be so quick to defile his charge.” The innuendo was obvious, but Erik moaned in protest, grabbing the back of Charles’s head to thread his fingers through his hair.

“I am going to claim that insubordinate mouth of yours by the end of this night if I help you at all.” Charles smiled at the threat and desperation and aggression in Erik’s voice and it dawned on him that perhaps that was the sort of thing that Charles liked. He liked the idea of being dominated, but the odd thing was that no one could truly dominate Charles Xavier without his consent, and if Charles was consenting to Erik’s domination, whether physically or in terms of employment, that was a valuable asset. 

“I agree to those terms,” he said, throwing himself down on the bed, it sagging under his weight. He pulled his socks off and tossed them to the side, opened his shirt, and reclined on the bed. Erik came to sit down next to him and set his arm such that it was behind his employee, effectively blocking him in. 

“So you wanted to discuss our issues,” he said, using every ounce of restraint to keep himself from considering the fact that Charles was on his bed partially clothed. Somewhere, his shirt had fallen open, revealing unblemished skin and Erik wished he knew words better than beautiful to describe it.

Charles bit his lip and Erik was going to murder him for the most intoxicating thing he had ever done, but he spoke. “You have councils with members of the Realm if I am not mistaken. The next one of these, which Logan and I were preparing for when you made your exchange, is in a fortnight. Logan somehow got the idea on his very own to suggest the legalization of homosexual relations. Not necessarily marriage, mind you, but the freedom in crass terms to fuck whomever you want, regardless of sex. The top ten in line for the throne meet, and four are needed to bring it to trial.”

“And you mean to say we have two: myself and Logan.” said Erik, hand trailing closer to Charles’s bare hip. “Who else?”

“Raven,” answered Charles. “She is extraordinary. She had been a guest at Logan's often after she broke it off with you, and they often discussed the influential people that she knew. If we can get her, she will be massively influential. Have any ideas?”

Erik was contemplative for a while. “She broke it off with me after she found me with Sarah, a cruel irony, I know.” He watched as Charles flinched at the mention of his ex-maid. Erik knew that something was off with her and he needed to know what it was. Something about her being mixed up in Charles’s attempted murder (twice) made anxiety curl in his stomach. His mind went blank for a moment, and his mouth fell open. 

“Marcus.” His eyes were wild and he flew from the bed, shirt tails flying. “Good God, Charles. It’s pure speculation and we need to find proof but…” His chest expanded and contracted rapidly. “It’s all about Sarah. It’s always been about her. If Marcus raped my mother...you said she didn’t die right away and you’re fairly certain about that? I don’t know where you get your information, dear Charles, but...Marcus raped her. She wasn’t killed until later, and why would they keep her alive? Brian hears so much, oh, Charles it is so much worse than I imagined!”

“I’m sorry?” Charles moved to the edge of the bed, eyes rapt on Erik as he thought through his predicament. It all made sense, now, but if only he had proof. On top of it all, it cleared Charles’s name, or at least deflected its tainting. “All these years and I had been blind to it when their bond was like nothing I had witnessed between any other servants, and here I thought they may have had some sort of twisted affair when she even risked horrid defects--my sister, Charles!”

The younger man sat in silence as he thought through the fragments of Erik’s mind. “You mean to suggest that Sarah is your half-sister? Erik, this does not bode well for you.”

“If I had an heir, or if she bore any child, he would be my successor. But we need to find proof of this before--”

“Proof?” A slow smile slid across his features and oh, it was so neat. Marcus had been murdered to frame Charles so that he would be executed. When no charge came, two attacks in the kitchen and this evening tried to take matters into his own hands. With Charles out of the way, Sarah’s offspring would serve as successor to Erik’s position. This was treason, because Charles was too good with poisons for it to be reasonable for him to mess up that badly, and because Marcus not only raped a duchess, but his daughter was trying to overthrow a duke, her brother. “We have treason, dear Erik. On both counts.”

“And so we use the law to the law’s disadvantage.”

“That’s the whole point.” And Erik did it, tender at first, his lips soft on Charles’s, but within moments they were more urgent. Charles walked them back to the bed and urged Erik’s knees to bed and he slid back where Charles crawled on top of his lap, hips grinding down where Erik’s interest was evident. They kissed like men starved, tongues brushing against each other, hands pawing at each other’s chests and shoving shirts off. Erik’s strong arms wrapped around Charles’s waist, pulling him up some so that Charles was a little higher, kissing down on him and his fingernails scratching his scalp. Erik moaned at the sensation of Charles all around him, lithe form strong and forceful as he pushed Erik down so that he was flat on the bed. A hand trailed down between them, uncertain who’s because they had lost where the one ended and the other began. 

The hand was followed by Charles’s head, nipping and sucking angry red marks on Erik’s neck, soothed by his hot tongue. His breath hitched as Charles did _something_ right at his collarbone that caused him to cry out in pleasure, all nerve firing. Charles could smell the soap with which Erik bathed, and the heady scent of his skin came through, a dance of aromas wafting through his nose as he liked a stripe between his pecs, then kissed over, hands firm on his hips as he took Erik’s nipple in his mouth. Instantly, Erik’s hands found Charles’s hair, threading through and tugging as Charles’s mouth did expert things to him, tongue swirling and teeth grazing and Charles could feel Erik squirming under him, and he pressed his arm against his abdomen, hand trailing up to work the other nipple, pinching and tugging and the sounds of Erik coming apart underneath him fuel him further. Charles lunged up and claimed Erik’s mouth, tongue licking into his mouth, lips leaving bruising kisses, hips grinding down to what must have been a painful erection. 

Erik’s moans were increasing, more urgent as he flipped Charles over, and all he could do was stare down at the blushing form, hips nearly purple and swollen, slick and wet with spit, pupils blown that only a shocking blue shone through, hair ruffled over his forehead and his chest splotchy with arousal and heat. His nipples were peaked and hard under Erik’s careful fingertips. He felt Charles’s body expanding and contracting under him as he struggled to control his breathing. Erik leaned forward, kissing him slowly and thoroughly. “If only you knew,” he panted between kisses, “How badly I needed you.” Charles was thrusting into him, hard cock evident through his pants. To a degree, it was pathetic with the need that was so evident in his face. Erik’s mind retracted for a moment, wondering what exactly was going on in that magnificent mind of his. 

Charles’s hand was there, pressing on the hard length of Erik’s cock, rubbing him through the soft cotton of his pants. “You’re thinking,” he mused, playfulness sparking in his eyes like gunpowder. “Now really isn’t the most opportune time for that, don’t you think?”

Erik bit his lip, trying to keep a moan from tumbling out of his lips, harsh and needy. Charles’s hands were working at the buttons on his pants and hastily rolling them down his thighs, freeing his ample cock framed by dark, soft pubic hair. He sighed at the release, but it was too long before Charles began to reach for him.

“What are you thinking?”

“You’re the one that wanted this,” he responded. “I wanted it, too, but this was the deal.”

“My dear boy,” said Erik, cupping Charles’s face in his hand, fingers running along a jaw that was half open, breath hot over the tip of Erik’s hard cock. “If anyone’s giving, it ought to be me, as much as I’d love your mouth over me.”

“Then do as you say.” Charles leaned back and worked his pants off, his cock popping to slap against his stomach, spreading his legs over the soft sheets. Invitation and challenge were in his eyes and Erik honestly wanted to consume him. He honestly wanted to wrap his lips around his cock and suck him dry, moaning and shaking against him as he stroked himself, but he couldn’t. 

“Oh, love,” he said, voice low and lovely, wrecked and desirous. “I think you’re worse than I.” He crawled across the bed, over Charles’s hard cock and he braced his arms over him and ducked down, crushing their lips together. Theirs was a hot and heady kiss, intoxicating, and by the time they had finished, both were dizzy. “Let us celebrate sometime later, properly, when there is something to celebrate.”

Erik rolled over, hand resting on his stomach, his cock still painfully hard. Charles was still beside him, his breathing slowly returning to normal. They lay like that for a while, works not passing between them, but sometime Erik’s fingers interlaced with Charles’s. 

“I shall write Shaw tomorrow,” said Erik, his voice warm yet purposeful, “And report an act of treason. Can you have it mailed before the evening?”

“If you write it,” replied Charles, giving Erik’s hand a squeeze, his mind racing. “And you don’t think she will charge rape? You know they don’t take incest well.”

“Ignorance is a viable plea,” he responded, “And she was my servant. You know they wouldn’t hear it.” Erik rolled to his side, curling into Charles and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Charles rose, leaving his master on the bed and gathering his clothes. 

“I plan to go into town midday tomorrow. I’d be happy to mail your letter if you have it prepared.” He had pulled his pants on and was buttoning the top button and in the silence that ensued pulled his shirt on.

“Why?” Erik straightened, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and folding his hands in front of his knees.

“I must get something to my family. Alert them of my new address. Being so busy, I haven’t the time.”

“You never said you had a family.” 

Charles just smiled, buttoning the top button of his shirt and snatching Erik’s perfume off of the dresser and spritzing himself with it. “Don’t want the maids to catch on,” he said with a knowing look to Erik’s semi-hard cock. “And if I hear you when I return to my room, don’t be surprised if you’d imagine me joining you, for you wouldn’t be making a misconception.” A sly wink was what he left his master with, closing the door softly behind him. 

Erik had to admit that he liked Charles’s cockiness. He reclined once more on the bed and his hand trailed down his torso, stretching as he reached the base of his cock. He gave it a squeeze, sighing at the sensation, and then lazily began stroking himself. He wasn’t long until he was quite hard, his cock twitching in his hand as he imagined Charles sucking him, long and hard as his looked up at him with lips the color of blood and eyes the color of the deepest clear sky.

He came with that image in his mind, of Charles there and hot jets of his come landed on his toned stomach and he gasped at the sudden heat there. He pumped himself in spasms as he finished, balls tense and his hair messed where he had been pulling it. 

Rising, he washed himself and slipped into bed, curling the covers around himself and closing his eyes to the sounds of breathy panting on the opposite side of the wall.

~~~

Charles’s mind flew through his options. Erik would be demanding an explanation. He would feel betrayed and there was nothing Charles could do to stop it. Shaw had taken advantage of him to keep track of the lower ranks, an irony in itself. Charles’s mother and father, King and Queen of Xmeni, the underground resistance to the Mutant forces, something that Logan had been covert in for some time and was fourth in command of. He took a sheet of paper and tossed it on his desk and rooted around for a pen. Pulling his chair out, he threw himself down and began to write furiously. First, he wrote his employer.

_Your Royal Highness and Master Shaw,_

_Defective talk in the Lehsherr household. Request immediate arrest for Brian Selsburger and Erik Lehnsherr on the grounds of treason, and for Lehnsherr the act of involuntary incest by rape of his sister, Miss Sarah Lehnsherr, offspring by rape of Olivia Lehnsherr and Marcus Radson during the conquest of the Lehnsherr Estate.  
Plan for murder at the fortnight’s council. Uncertain how many are partaking. Will require further exploration._

_In haste, your humble servant,  
C.X._

Charles folded and sealed the letter, penning the address on the front and shoving it into his jacket pocket. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. His cock had softened by now and he fell against his bed and sighed, back hitting against the wall. He could hear Erik gasping and moaning in the room next door and exhaustion swept over him, as well as an overwhelming sense of regret. This needed to happen, and yet there was a chance that they would kill Erik before Charles could get to him, before he could remove Shaw and lead the Xmeni to retake their homeland. And so he moved again, finding another piece of paper and penning a similar letter to his parents. 

_Mother and Father,_

_I have settled in well here in Lehnsherr Esate, a trade for something quite scandalous that I wish I could pen to you. Erik’s sister was a new edition that I didn’t expect to meet in this new assignment, and her betrothal to Erik’s stable boy was a surprise that would prove beneficial, I’m sure.  
Erik and I have gotten along well and I’ve gained his trust. He and I have similar ideas, an interesting thought with which I have allowed some of my hopes to show. Do write me when you plan to come up to the Estate. I’m sure he would love to meet the two of you sooner rather than later. _

_All the best,  
Charles_

~~~

It was a quick trip into town the next day, and so Charles was back in plenty of time for afternoon tea. Stabling his horse with Brian, who seemed to be in a pleasant mood, he went into the house and met Erik in the informal parlor. The tea had already been poured and Erik sat there, looking steadily average, and when he looked up at Charles, that guilt was there again. As far as Erik was concerned, Charles had given him a death sentence, but he couldn’t tell him what was really going on yet. They’d torture him in there; Charles had heard the screams, and anything that Erik might hint at could jeopardize everything.

“Master, a word please.” Charles brushed past his employer, a hand grazing his shoulder. Erik got up after wiping his mouth and followed his charge. Charles led them through the corridors, appearing to search for something. He crossed in front of the windows on the far left side of the house, where the alcoves and guest rooms were, and turned to a place that Erik hardly recalled existing. It was a place he hadn’t gone in ages, and suddenly there was a tightness in his chest. This was the part of the house where he found his mother all those years ago, Marcus deep inside of her while he was held there, forced to watch.

“Charles,” the name on his lips was a plea, and the younger man stilled. “You know where you are leading me.”

“The depths of hell,” he responded. Erik saw something excruciating cross those fair features and he needed to know what it was. The problem was that Charles was too smart to tell him straight, and so he let him lead, putting trust in the man who was single-handedly leading a revolution.

Erik was frozen to the spot, breathing labored and eyes wild. “How dare you.” His voice was low and full of rage and this time, it wasn’t something that Charles found attractive. A blush crept to the shorter man’s features and he, frankly, was embarrassed. “The seat of my pain and you brazenly lounge on it. Where you searching for a stolen kiss? At the scene of my mother’s rape? You know now what has happened in these halls and you choose to be intimate at the core of my anguish.”

Silence passed between them. “How do you know so much, Charles? About me, about my lineage, about who has been in my house?” If Charles was honest, he’d admit that yes, he was looking for a stolen kiss. He hadn’t known that this part of the Estate had been where Erik’s mother had been raped. He only knew that the servants never ventured there and they would be safe from prodding eyes. As the summer was drawing to autumn, it was draftier in here, and Charles should have known it hadn’t been heated in years. He should have known that the one place Marcus had left out on his tour was a forbidden place.

“I thought I could trust you, but...even Marcus didn’t know some of the things you know. Some of the things you said he told you. I excused them, accepted them as brilliance.”

“Erik, this is madness.” Charles stepped forward and rose a hand to cradle Erik’s face, but Erik slapped him away.

“Do not touch me. You are a stranger.” This was bad. Charles needed Erik to trust him. Needed him to believe that Charles loved him, because Charles knew that Erik didn’t attach well to people. Xmeni was impeccable with research, and Erik Lehnsherr had the most extensive file in their library. “All of this has been a lie. Did you mean anything last night? Have you ever?”

“Erik, please.”

“You will call me Master Lehnsherr,” he thundered, eyes steely and body taught and Charles remembered the complete difference the evening before, how he was so languid and loose and would have loved Charles to the ends of the earth, and now he called him a stranger in his house.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I--I have for a long time now, only I was stupid not to realize it.” It wasn’t quite true, but he needed it to work. He reached forward and tried to touch Erik again, and this time, he let him. “But…” A heavy sigh, and Charles began to walk again, down the hall and away from the inhabited part of the house. He couldn’t face his friend, his lover, not with what he needed to tell him but couldn’t. “I love you, Erik, and I need you to trust me. Something...something is going to happen and I need you to trust me or else I will be forced to….I can’t. You need to trust me Erik, please.” The eyes were sincere, and for a moment Erik thought that it was if a king were begging a peasant, the regal face something that ought to be painted and put on a wall. 

“Logan trusts me, Master Lehnsherr. He has known me since I was a boy before the Mutants came and he knew what was happening when I came here. I need you to do the same.” The regalness had returned and Charles watched Erik take a deep breath. Erik stepped forward, urgency in his face as he kissed Charles, hot and long and thorough, like everything else that he did.

“I do,” said Erik after they parted, and Charles pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I feel blind, but I will trust you.” Erik took a steadying breath and laced his fingers through Charles’s. They turned and headed back to tea together, only breaking apart and ceasing to steal kisses until they returned to the parlor.


	6. The Tragedies of Lehnsherr Estate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some things come to inevitable ends and the archive warnings thoroughly apply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned, and I promise the next chapter will be coming soon (with a happier end), there is graphic rape in this chapter, and some supremely feelsy stuff, entirely unrelated.
> 
> Also, there will be a correction coming that I haven't quite hashed out yet. Charles won't be using cyanide as a poison because it gives off the odor of almonds, and it's too specific for everyone to be using honey in tea (which is chill for smelling like almonds, I guess) instead of something else, so I'm researching poisons (#dadsachemist).

A week passed full of stolen kisses and touches, where Charles earned Erik’s trust back through breathlessness and loving glances. Plans continued for the council and how Erik was going to plan to suggest how to phrase his proposition. They worked together, joined and moving like waves. Charles tried to repress the guilt that bubbled up inside of him when he saw how pleased Erik was, how blue and wide his eyes were, and how he clung to him after a heated episode in a stairwell.

But the time came, and the Crown came in the night. Charles had received word from Shaw that he was dispatching a group to collect Erik and Brian, and he said he had sent a letter to Logan asking to confirm that Sarah worked there. The date was given, and Charles sat up that night after he and Erik had kissed for what felt like hours, bruising lips and chasing tongues and feeling the solid muscle underneath each other’s skin. Charles was actually starting to fall for him: that much he knew was true, and the ache in his chest when he saw the torch-lit carriages pull up to the front of the house propelled him upstairs, down the familiar hall, the place where they had stolen kisses and once nearly crested, hands too eager and hips thrusting through grievous clothing.

He didn’t bother knocking. He had left his lover asleep while keeping vigil. He lay there, at total peace, having no idea what was about to happen, and Charles internalized the moment of tranquility before horror tore away the curtain and lashed them raw. His steps silent on the supple carpet, Charles strode forward and reached his hand down to Erik’s shoulder. He didn’t wake, and the bitterness that one feels before a mighty sob built up inside of him and his eyes were wet and he began to shake. He continued in earnest and he shook him, pressing kisses to his face as Erik was roused. 

“Good God, Charles.” Alarm lit up Erik’s eyes and he reached a tentative hand up, cupping his cheek. Confusion replaced the urgency of alarm and Charles felt Erik’s breath hitch in his face as the realization of something terrible came into his semi-awake consciousness. It interrupted Charles’s litany of “I love you”s, and Erik gave him a swift kiss before Charles composed himself to speak.

“They’ve come. They’ll be taking you. I’m so sorry, Erik,” and the rest was lost to regret, guilt, anguish. All of these culminated to a nauseating feeling in Charles’s stomach as the tears rushed freely from his eyes., his nose running and sobs wracking his body. He knew what he was doing when he penned the letter to Shaw, but he had no idea that he would be so affected. 

“Quite the show, Xavier.” Charles didn’t recognize the voice, but he knew that they had come. He clutched at Erik’s bedsheets and they tore him away as Erik rose, an oddly dignified face masking the betrayal that flashed through as he stared only at Charles, the love that had been there before washed away by complete understanding. They threw clothes at him and pulled the garments over that lovely naked form, one that Charles had ached to worship for weeks. The silence that had fallen over Erik was the worst of all. Charles would have given anything for him to scream and curse and beat him, but he just looked on coolly as they read him his charges.

“Erik Lehnsherr, per request of Charles Xavier, Aide to His Royal Highness, the Royal Crown of Mutants arrests you under the charge of treason by conspiring of the murder of dignitaries, and violation of the law whereby you have been accused of rape, specifically the incestual rape of your sister, Sarah Lehnsherr. For these criminal charges, you will be imprisoned until a trial may be provided to you, whereby you will defend your honor before His Royal Highness, King Sebastian Shaw for the crimes aforementioned.”

Erik’s face was unreadable, but his eyes never left Charles’s. His lover, however, tried to reach forward to touch his master, but one of the guards held him back. He had managed to compose himself, but as they bound Erik’s hands behind his back, the smooth veneer over that stoic face faltered and he bowed his head, eyes falling shut. Charles watched his chest move up and down like he had so many times as he had trailed his teeth and tongue down the solid flesh, and now, it was possible for him to lose it all if he wasn’t careful and if he didn’t act quickly enough.

“Xavier will testify against you in court for he brought the charges, provided he is present for the trial. Your estate will be monitored through members of the Crown until you are acquitted or a successor is named.” The man’s dark eyes scanned over to Charles, raking up and down until returning to Erik. “If you have anything to say now, please do so now. Anything you would like to say to your accuser?”

Erik’s hard gaze swept over Charles’s body, thorough and deliberate as his tongue darted out to lick his lips, perhaps out of nerves. “You told me I could trust you. You told me...so much...and here you are.” 

“Erik--”

“I trust you, because people like you….slimy, manipulative, betrayers, have no reason to beg.” The lawman who was arresting Erik snorted and started shoving the taller man along, insistent of his haste.

“Come along, Xavier.”

~~~

The prison for traitors was one of the most intense in the Realm and for this reason, Charles had managed to speak to Erik all of once in the first week. It was late at night at a time where only one guard kept his watch, and Charles could pay him off from the money that Shaw had given him for turning in Erik. The pieces felt dirty in his hand and he considered throwing the money from the highest parapet, but perhaps he would save that for a later time once all of this had ended.

Charles walked through the dark stone hallway that led to Erik’s cell. The prison had not yet been refit for gaslights, and so torches maintained an eerie glow as Charles’s frame cast a long shadow. 

Though Erik said his name in a low voice, Charles could hear the moan from a few yards away as it bounced off of the hard walls. His former master sat on the cold floor, neck exposed as he leaned his head back on the wall, eyes lazily following his former servant’s entrance into his line of sight.

“You couldn’t see me.”

“But you think I could forget the sound of your gait and the smell of you?” Where Charles expected a weak smile, there was a predatory glare. “Trust you, eh? To have me thrown before the wolves. Isn’t that the punishment? Castration, of course, for the incest and the rape, but I do believe that I die the most painful death for treason.” A fondness was in his eyes and confusion flickered over Charles’s face before he pressed some form of a question.

“You said nothing against me.”

“But your easy defense was baiting me, of course, to say the things that I did. I only mentioned them to you, dear Charles, and if it’s the word of an Aide against me, I haven’t a prayer.” His fingers reached through the bars and Charles took his hand, an idea suddenly forming in his mind.

“I know you can’t trust me now, Erik.” Charles’s eyes were dark in this light, but Erik could see the thoughts rushing through, and the sincerity in his face allowed him a moment of belief. “But when I woke you those nights ago, I had an honest litany.” Charles curled his fingers tighter, even as Erik pulled away. “And believe me, I will get you…” He began again, “you will be free from your suffering.” As he said it, Erik knew that he meant all of it: the cell, the cold walls, and the trauma that had surrounded his life since Charles came, and even that before. “Just a few days, please. I need to...I should go back home, Erik, and get evidence and all will be well. Please...I don’t know when they will put you on trial but I must get Brian’s mistakes. He has to have saved some, for he would plan another attack.”

“Were they for me? The poisons, were you going to--?”

“I can not answer that.” Charles let Erik’s fingers slip from his grasp. “But I will leave tonight, and hopefully be back in the morning. I will clear you, Erik. You will not leave this world alone.”

And suddenly, Erik had risen and pressed his face to the bars, offering Charles his lips. Briefly, Charles accepted them, tonguing at Erik’s lower lip before stumbling away. 

“Godspeed, dear Charles.” Those eyes full of longing and pain regressed to blankness. Slowly, Erik slid down the stone wall and landed on the ground with a thud, and Charles turned away before he could see Erik’s face covered in his hands. He could not escape before the tortuous sobs reached his ears.

~~~

The night was cold as Charles rode down to Lehnsherr Estate. He pushed the images of Erik out of his mind so that he could focus on getting as much poison as possible. He knew that the Xmeni had moved into the inns near the castle so that they could stand in the trial where many of the murders were to occur, and it really was a simple enough operation.

It was an hour’s ride on a fast horse to the Lehnsherr estate and Charles made it by four in the morning, about half an hour later than a fast horse would take him. The place was dark but for the front light and Charles tied his horse to the balustrade that led up the few front steps and gently pushed the door open, something that he thought was odd but didn’t give much consideration to.

Quietly creeping through the halls, Charles cut his way to the kitchen to begin his search. He tore open the cupboards and began to paw through them, tugging off lids and gently inhaling at the contents. Finding nothing, he moved outside to the stables. He horses greeted him with snorts and pawing at the ground, and he patted one on the nose, the velvet soft against his fingertips.

Charles searched everywhere, including his and Erik’s rooms, and found nothing, not even a hint of the poison that he was hoping he’d find. Making one last sweep, he headed to the largely-abandoned servants quarters where his and Erik’s relationship took its first hit. Crossing through the main entrance hall, Charles stopped to admire the staircase and how the moonlight shone through the windows. It would have been eerie, knowing that there was a chance that he and Erik would never return to his place, but the conversations while hanging on the balustrade and the stolen kisses as they parted for bed, the lashing that he had received in this very room that fateful night where he was almost murdered, the revelations they had made, and the critical comparison he had made when he had first walked through those doors all rushed back to him in some sort of crescendo that made his pulse flutter and his stomach clench. To know that he had slowly fallen for Erik...that alone was enough for him.

He pressed on into the parlor and then through the door that led to the back hall, the hall where he could see Erik’s mother being dragged down it by a younger Marcus, as beautiful and spectacular as her son, those eyes blazing and the temper that he saw so often in her son flaring, and then on the second door down adjacent the massive windows that overlooked the sprawling gardens, she was thrown in where a bed that once had a lovely frame but had grown decrepit in its age awaited her.

There she was thrown, dress ripped off, and Erik was ushered in behind her, the door closing with thunderous finality as his parents’ most trusted servant cast his mother’s garments aside, baring the soft flesh of the boy’s mother before him. He kissed her, Charles recalled Erik saying, and he worshipped her body, nipping and sucking at her breasts and warm center until his length appeared. Erik didn’t remember when Marcus had cast away his pants, leaving a glistening cock waiting to impregnate his mother.

There the narrative ended, as Charles recalled Erik’s face turning to stone. Charles didn’t dare imagine the screams as Marcus forced his way inside of her, thrusting too hard for any real form of love to manifest, and he could imagine a young Erik projecting the faces of the monsters who ravaged his homeland onto the man who had raised him since birth, had taught him his letters and numbers, how to ride and how to do business.

The hall was dark like the memories that it housed. The moon had set too far to reach this part of the building, but the first glance of twilight rose over the moor. Charles’s steps shuffled on the unclad floor and he reached the second door at length. Stilling himself, he reached a tentative hand out to grasp the cool brass. 

Charles didn’t know that with a flick of his wrist, he would spiral into barbarity. The heavy oak door swung open and there he saw them, Sarah and Brian, naked on the bed. Shock rushed through him and he suppressed a gasp, his stomach ready to heave, but no, the were still, lying entwined in one another. Their stench filled the room and silently, Charles moved about the room, never taking his eyes off of them as he went to the side Sarah lay, where the dusty nightstand sat with a partially open drawer. Charles was nearly blind in here, but the heavy breathing of the couple comforted his notion that they were fast asleep in post-coital bliss.

And at last, Charles found what he was looking for. The cyanide was in a vial, and there was a surprisingly large amount of it; about a jarful. Tucking it into a bag that he had brought with him, Charles move to push the drawer back to it’s original state, but a horrifying squeal of unlubricated ball bearings stilled him. He turned, but was stilled by cool metal pressing into his side. 

“Mmm…” The husky scent of a recently-orgasmed male filled Charles’s nostrils. Charles could feel all of him and he forced himself to close his eyes as the pressure of Brian’s fingers on his arm pushed him in front of the bed. A sharp flick of a wrist drew blood from Charles’s side and the bag fell to the ground, but the lack of a high-pitched shatter indicated that it was still intact. “And here is our little assassin, love, coming to claim what is his. You’d forgotten, hadn’t you, like a squirrel with his nut?” Hot lips pressed to his neck, to the scar, specifically, and Charles gasped as if he were being burned again. His eyes flew open and he saw her, Sarah, one knee raised as she squirmed, hands massaging her full breasts. Erik couldn’t have known that she was his sister by looking at her, for she was stunning, and the way her azure eyes darkened by lust stared at him, Charles, too could succumb to her spell.

The knife clattered to the floor and Brian’s hands and mouth became more adventurous, trailing up from Charles’s hips to grab at his chest. His fingers dug into the fabric and tensed it for a moment before Brian, a man of superior strength and height, spun Charles around and shoved him down onto the bed. The shorter man’s back hit the tattered sheets and the couples’ hands were on him, desperately undoing the buttons of his shirt and pants and nearly ripping his clothes off. 

“But it doesn’t matter, dear Charles.” Anger surged through him at the name and he hissed angrily as Sarah clamped down on one of his nipples, her navel above his face and her sex close enough and aroused enough for him to smell it. “Erik is gone now, and will be standing trial in the morning. It’s a pity that the two of you didn’t manage to fuck while you had the chance. I would have loved to have heard your breathy moans as the two of you ruined perfectly good sheets together.” A wet heat was over his cock now and that same breathy moan was forced out of Charles’s mouth, his eyes closing in pleasure that his body felt but his mind screamed against. 

“No...I must--” His weak protests were silenced by Sarah as her wet lips filled his breathless mouth. She ground against him and he could hear her moaning over his cock and it was all too much. He didn’t want this. How had they gotten away? The case was strongest against them. 

“Now, I’m sure,” said Brian between moans. Charles could hear the slapping of skin on skin as he was undoubtedly stroking himself, enjoying the scene before him, “That you are wondering how such a closed case ended up here, with my fiance and I working a second shift of pleasure and you with what seems to be a sizable erection, which I am so very sorry your dear Erik will never see, for it is quite a sight. I don’t expect you to respond, for Sarah is very honest in her lovemaking and often renders me speechless.” For his monologue, he must have taken his hand off of his cock, for his breath was evening. 

“All manner of questions I’m sure you have, dear Charles, but let us begin at the beginning. I’m sure you thought you were clever in orchestrating such a nice place to incriminate such a morally gray master, but it simply wouldn’t do for my dear Sarah Shaw and I.”

Charles cried out as his balls tensed, his belly taught with an orgasm that was about to spill from him. Shaw. Sarah Shaw. The woman pulled off of him and came up to kiss him, her breath catching as she relieved herself from the heat of his mouth. She came up to kiss him and Charles heard a groan as she swayed her hips before her fiance and her tongue dove into Charles’s mouth.

“Erik wasn’t wrong. It was, in fact, the Mutants raping his mother. On this bed, no less, where our dear Sarah was conceived. Our very own Sebastian Shaw, no less.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips and Sarah was on the move again, this time crawling across Charles’s body to position herself above his hard cock. Brian also moved, crawling up the bed and pausing to busy his mouth on Sarah’s firm, swollen breasts. She sighed more than Charles thought was necessary, and as Brian’s hand trailed to her stomach, she sunk down onto Charles’s cock and he understood. Brian had impregnated her. She needed to blame it on Erik or Charles, but Erik was already on trial for his life and Charles happened upon them at the wrong time.

“And how kind of you to father our child, dear Charles.” Sarah’s moans filled the room and Charles knew that it was some sort of a show. He wasn’t big and he wasn’t performing any ministrations, but Brian’s voice cut through as his cock filled his victim’s mouth. “I did wonder what poor Erik might have felt with that rosy, hot mouth of yours. But allow me to continue.” Slowly, Brian began to thrust, inching deeper and deeper down Charles’s throat. That same coil of pleasure was building inside of him and he had to distract himself, had to hold off on it until Brian finished his speech, because the teasing and the possible murder that would occur after this rape may ruin too much.

“Shaw wouldn’t dare allow a common unmarried stable boy to sire his heir, but it seems to me that his royal Aide would do just fine. Of course, he’d never condone the rape of his daughter, and so it may end in tragedy, but we’d have two homes upcoming: here, of course for our marriage, and the palace once our son is born, heir to the Crown of the Realm.” He kissed his fiance once more before continuing and Charles focused on the swaying of her breasts, full with the task of nourishing her child.

“And dear Erik, to be executed by dawn. It really is a pity, for I’m sure you left to gather some form of poison. I’m sorry that my hand made it a bit obvious with Marcus, but that would have been giving too much away if he could have alerted you of our little scheme.” Charles couldn’t breathe because Brain’s full cock filled his throat. Tears rushed out of his eyes and a strangled groan came from his throat as his rapist gave him a moment’s gasping reprieve.

“You’re finished, dear Charles. Release yourself into Erik’s dear sister like he had done so many times, and run to him. You might get to see his last breaths before the dogs rip him to shreds.”

And without warning, Charles did. His balls clenched and he came with a strangled cry, tears rushing down to his ears and Brian’s hot come filling his mouth and his throat. He pulled out sloppily and moved again to suck at his finance’s nipples as she continued to ride Charles’s aftershocks, screaming in pleasure as her left hand fingered her swollen clit and she clenched around him, milking the last of his wasted semen. 

Charles had never moved so fast. He slid off of the bed and stumbled to the floor, his legs weak underneath him and his throat raw, his spit mixed with Brian’s come all over his chin and cheeks, and he clumsily pulled his clothes on and gathered up his bag and he ran, leaving Sarah and Brian, who was teasing another orgasm from his fiance. 

Down the hall, through the parlor, crossing the marble plain of the entryway and out of the large oak door he stumbled, knocking vases and priceless heirlooms to their doom. Charles didn’t have an hour until dawn, the sun’s rays full over the moor but the blinding orb itself not yet crested over the windy expanse. He urged his mount forward, pressing her onward as she wheezed below him. 

He had half an hour left in his trip when the sun crested over the hill. He could see Shaw’s castle in the distance and a crowd gathering in the pen in the middle of the gardens. Charles had walked those gardens so many time before and now they were tainted. 

He closed his eyes and whispered some form of prayer and stilled his horse, feeling her breathe and shake, but he needed her to go on, and so he pressed her. She had to go down the hill and close off the last two miles to the gates and he could mount a defense. Shaw, perhaps, didn’t care about the rape code, but someone had to, and if he could get enough people against Shaw, he’d have a change.

And the master of poisons had his cyanide, that which would kill anyone with so much as a teaspoon, and the fact that Erik was still alive, that he still had a change so long as his best friend breathed pushed him along, digging his heels into his mount, whispering something sweet to urge her on.


	7. If God Is Men...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial of Erik Lehnsherr and its aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the plot climax of the story. The relationship climax will come later. There is probably one chapter or so left, so thank you all for bearing with me here, and some of the correction that I mentioned in the last Chapter's notes are here.

When they roused Erik, the light had barely graced his window, but they dragged him out into the corridor and threw him to the ground where his bound hands failed to catch him. They pulled him up the steps and with each step, _Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles._ Even as they brought him up to the courtroom. _Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles._ And as his eyes rose to the judge, his king, Sebastian Shaw, the name crescendoed in his head. _Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles._ Erik knew him, even though he didn’t recall seeing him as king because his face was somewhere else. What little was left in Erik’s stomach was on the floor and the guards struggled to keep him upright as his vision went white and then the fringes of black crowded in around him.

“Erik Lehnsherr, by order of Charles Xavier and the constitution of the Realm, I hereby open this trial on the charge of incest and murder of your sister and my daughter, Princess Sarah Shaw.”

A weak mewl came out of Erik’s mouth. “And unfortunately for the defendant, there is no prosecution, and so the next of kin of the victim will take the stand, which will stand to be, seeing as the prosecution’s mother has passed from this world, her father, My Royal Highness Sebastian Shaw. The defendant will plead his case, and from there we will proceed by nature of the law. Duke Lehnsherr, your plea and opening remarks.”

Erik straightened himself and looked Shaw in the eye, and then gazed around the courtroom. Logan sat in the seats above, looking down at him. Raven was at his side. There was an empty chair where Charles was supposed to be, and he didn’t recognize the rest of the faces in the crowd. They were most likely commoners to see a Duke be executed for rape and incest. Perhaps the treasonous trial would come later, but for now, he had to think on how to get out of his charge without any sort of help from Charles, a man who knew so much about so many things, and yet had let him down at his most critical hour. 

The sun was growing in strength, and as light filtered through the windows, Erik watched the dust swirl and dance and he thought briefly back to the tranquility of his home, or at least the moments that he and Charles had shared, for they were the happiest of his life.

“I swore an oath to this government to uphold its laws within every aspect, despite my carnal intentions. When I met Sarah--”

“You will address the victim as Her Highness,” corrected her father, a fact that made Erik want to heave once more. He had been right all along. Marcus had died for nothing. Charles, who had been so correct and so knowledgeable, had made a mistake, and it very well may have cost both of their lives.

“When I met Her Highness, I did not know her as my sister. A beautiful baby girl was how I met her, abandoned at my doorstep and taken in by a man who would effectively serve to be her father, my dear butler Marcus. However, I had witnessed the rape of my mother, and I knew that the Crown upheld a law not to mate with Humans, and so for a time I thought that Marcus had molested her.” Tears pricked at his eyes and gave him pause. “But it was you.” Those steely, glacial eyes fixed themselves on Sebastian Shaw’s face, but the unforgiving look that was returned ripped a sob from Erik’s throat.

“I am not on trial, Master Lehnsherr. Please proceed with your defense of rape of your sister and my daughter, remembering that Humans are not permitted to mate unless given permission by the Crown. If you defend that you did not rape her, then we will proceed with the trial of incest and of interracial intercourse.”

“If you please,” said Erik testily, courage building in his breast, “I admit to rape and unwitting incest, but on the grounds of interracial intercourse, I must object.”

“As must I.”

It was as if the world stilled and everything had gone into a free-fall. Erik hadn’t noticed when the doors had opened, and perhaps it was in Charles’s way that he made no sound as he entered the courtroom, but there he was, horribly disheveled with a torn shirt and stains on his shirt and coat, but he was there. Erik’s eyes flew to his neck where red and purple welts dwelt and residue covered his face, but by the grace of God he was there, whole and alive, and Erik didn’t notice until it was too late that he himself was openly shedding tears. 

Charles’s gait was off as he stumbled to the stand. The entire room was silent as he shuffled up the steps to the podium. His eyes were red as if he hadn’t slept or had been weeping, or perhaps both, but those eyes were fixed on Erik as he opened his bruised mouth to speak.

“Charles Xavier, you should be dead.” Shaw interrupted him, but Charles’s words tumbled out of his mouth.

“If I may, Your Highness, I think the court would like to hear a little story before we continue. Perhaps I will tell it backwards, for it will all make sense that way. But before I begin, we will require another lawman, for those on trial can not also serve as judge, as is written in the law.” Charles’s eyes dropped to Raven, who sat next to Logan. It was too soon for him to call on her, though he suspected that she was on their side, and so finally his gaze roved to Logan. 

Shaw sputtered and rose an arm, motioning for the guards. They rushed past Erik, who had collapsed into his chair in a heap, body heavy against the gravity of this early morning. With a single look, Charles stilled them, and once again Erik’s mind rose to the regality of Charles’s face: how it was so delicate and yet commanding, like a good king’s. 

“Master Logan, I do believe that you serve as superior to Master Lensherr, and for this I request that as the highest member of this court you serve as judge for the numerous crimes that I bring before His Royal Highness Sebastian Shaw, unless another member objects.” 

A murmur rippled through the crowd, but it was excited, not scandalized, and as Charles quickly scanned the room, he recognized many of the people whom his mother and father had recruited, and a surge of pride rushed through him at the concept that today they would take down the government that had oppressed so many for so long.

Logan stood and patted Raven’s hand, and then shuffled past the members of the congregation before taking up his seat in the judge’s chair. Shaw reluctantly climbed down to the defense’s chair. 

“Master Erik Lehnsherr, seeing as His Royal Highness Sebastian Shaw has been relieved of his duties of judge, I hereby sentence you to sanction of your title of Duke and all the privileges therein, as well as possession of all of your assets both domestic and abroad for the rape and incestous crimes committed to your half-Mutant half-sister, Her Highness the Princess Sarah Shaw. You are dismissed. Please proceed, Master Xavier.”

Relief swept over Erik’s face and he staggered to his feet. He bowed to Logan and gave a curt nod to Charles whose face was expressionless but for a glowing warmth in his eyes. Erik wasn’t one to often hinge himself on emotion, and so he figured that by the time this trial was over, the reason for a strange peace in his heart would all become clear to him.

“I bring His Royal Highness Sebastian Shaw as defendant for crimes of treason by sodomy, specifically the siring of an heir to the throne by a Human, as well as the plot to murder two government officials by false and confounding charges. My King, how do you plead?”

Shaw waved his hand an a guard came bearing tea. He placed the saucer before his king, as well as bowl of sugar, liberally throwing in a few spoonfuls of the white crystalline substance. Charles nodded at the man and he retreated to the door, his hands behind his back. The king left his beverage untouched and rose to the stand.

“Guilty on all counts.”

This struck Charles as a surprise, and the confusion that spread across his face gave him away. He ran a hand over the whiskers that were growing on his unshaven face and a few flecks of his early morning trauma fluttered to the floor 

“Logan, I ask that we suspend this trial for a moment to freely discuss away from the court of law.”

“Granted.” The sharp smack of the gavel roused the clamorous crowd.

Charles clambered down from the podium and strode across the room, straightening his stature, gait, and clothing all at once before reaching his King’s place. Charles stood before him, nobility rolling off of him as easily as the evidence of his rape, and Shaw knew everything that had happened to him. He knew about the poison that he wasn’t touching, because Brian had told him that cyanide was Charles's favorite. Shaw knew that the cyanide was in his bag, and that his guard had most likely slipped some of the stuff into his tea, for it smelled of almonds behind the sweet aroma.

“Clever for the poisoner to poison his king,” remarked Shaw. If Charles paled or his pulse raced, Shaw didn’t notice. He was a sorry sight already, with crusting on his face and stains on his clothes, but those unshakable blue eyes maintained their hold, and it was Shaw who faltered.

“Where is your daughter?” Asked Charles. He kept his voice even and had said it loud enough for the entire court to hear him. “I haven’t finished my story, my liege.”

“Then by all means, proceed.” Shaw’s jaw clenched and Charles saw what waters he was rowing into. Regardless, Shaw could and most likely would have him killed if this didn’t go as it was supposed to, and it hinged on quite a lot.

“Some of you may notice that this appearance is not one that I normally sport,” began the young man. “This morning, I was pressed to return to Lehnsherr Estate to acquire evidence against Erik Lehnsherr.” He cast his eyes to where Erik had settled, which happened to be next to Raven. She took his hand and he watched Erik flinch but never take his eyes off of his former servant. Trust was there, but Charles could tell that he was confused. “And I found what I was looking for. There was poison in the house, and I meant to extract it, but I came upon--” And at that point, he found himself at a mental block. The terror that he felt and the shame at the pleasure his body took from it clouded his vision. Tears began to prick at his eyes. He sighed and pressed his hand to his eyes, steeling himself for what he had to do. He took a sip of his king’s untouched tea. This time, an amazed murmur rushed through the crowd.

Shaw, too, looked amazed. “You didn’t--?” Color tinged his cheeks and Charles knew that he had played well. It was a classic trick to make a drinking motion, but not actually take anything. 

“No,” Charles lied. With a wry smile, he added, “That would be treasonous.”

It worked. Shaw took a sip of his tea and swallowed thickly, making a face at the flavor. In truth, anything in that beverage would have killed him, from the nightshade it was brewed from to the cyanide it was ‘sweetened’ with. The effect was quick. Already, Shaw’s pupils were dilating, giving him a nearly innocent look.

“Your daughter was there, as you know, and she was with her fiance. I found them as I searched for the poison to bring up against Eri--Master Lehnsherr,” Charles cleared his throat, once again glancing in Erik’s direction. “And both of them a--assaulted me.”

Shaw rose to his feet in outrage, nearly upsetting his tea. He was unsteady on his feet and braced his hands on the table, swaying dangerously. “Liar!” His voice was rough, and spittle formed around his mouth.

“Sarah wanted it to appear that I had impregnated her, but know this. The damage may be mine, but the child is not.” Charles’s voice rose and when Erik’s eyes finally locked onto Charles's, it was clear now what he was doing. He wanted to get up and embrace him, to make love to him right there in the courtroom, but his beating heart and the way that Raven’s hand was gripping his stilled him. “She’s already weeks gone, if a doctor looks at her, and I wouldn’t be the one to chase a maid.” A betraying smile crossed his features, but Charles pressed on. “No, she raped me, along with her fiance.” Charles took a moment to let the words sink in, not only to the congregation, but to himself. It couldn’t happen. Women did not rape men, he thought. They couldn’t, but it had happened. Charles felt a tightness in his chest that he attributed to it, but suddenly he felt the salty burn of tears fill his eyes.

“And besides,” he continued, voice cracking. “You tried to murder me. You ordered my death, and your assignment to Lehnsherr Estate got an innocent man killed.”

“But I am the king,” sneered Shaw, “I can do whatever I want.” He took another sip of the tea and blinked lazily. If the poison was working, Charles didn’t care, for his heart was slowly disintegrating before the court. The anxieties of the past week were gaining on him, and he needed to be strong, but at the same time he was falling and he had suspended the court so there was no one there to catch him. He braced himself on the table.

“You have no case, Xavier. I can not be on trial, in this randomized witch hunt, and so you, Charles Xavier, tried to poison your king.”

“I didn’t try,” hissed Charles finally, his eyes growing hard and triumph in his soft features. Shaw had fallen into his trap. And here was where it became critical that Erik remembered, that he was behind Charles in all of this because if he was not, Shaw could have him killed, and would end up murdering most of the people in the room. “If God is men,” began Charles, his voice rising above his agony. He looked up at the crowd and they stared at him in amazement. This leader, the man they learned to venerate because he could do it, he could end their oppression, was crumbling before them and rousing their rallying cry. They fell silent, all but for Erik, who thought very hard at those words. He remembered them. He remembered the conversation in Charles’s bed, where this all started to fall into place. 

He remembered how Charles spoke treason the first time, and how it had been honest, mostly. How Charles had looked at him with warmth in his eyes. How he had spoken about thirst. How he had kissed him. And how those kisses had grown from chaste to heady, intoxicating, and back again, like grasses on the moor’s windy expanse. And the tears that Charles cried when they came to take him away, and how Erik could only feel betrayal when Charles took the greatest risk of his life, and then he remembered. He remembered the moment when he knew he was in love with this man, who was so oddly a servant when he could be king, and he was. That was the crux of the matter. Charles _was_ king, and no law would keep him from it, for he was just, he was kind, he led. And Erik loved him.

And by God, Erik would do everything in his power and beyond to make his love King.

Raven’s hand was tight on his, squeezing so that the bones of his hand moved under the pressure. Shaw had visibly changed, his mouth falling open in shock and his face pale. His lips trembled and he staggered backward.

“Demon!” A long finger pointed at Charles, whose face was red and blotchy with tears and who struggled with keeping his emotions in check. He was running out of time. Shaw could call the guards at any moment, for surely he had heard the rallying cry of the Xmeni. “Sodomist filth!”

The words triggered rage. The naked, burning emotion ripped through him. His entire body was taut and his pulse pounded through his body and his skin was thrumming and Raven could hold him back no longer. A lion roared, “Men are doomed.”

A pride descended. The people spilled over the railing and rushed Shaw, cries ringing out and echoing through the chamber. No guard rushed to his aid as they carried Shaw out of the courtroom and into the street, his body convulsing with the poison that Charles had administered. From inside, those who remained could hear the screams and the yapping of the dogs. It was so fast and Charles hadn’t dried his tears by the time Raven was at his side, a gentle hand at his back. She 'shh'ed him and rubbed his back and enveloped him into a warm, motherly embrace as he cried into her chest. 

“They took them away, Charles,” she said, her voice raspy. “I don’t know how they knew but they did and I’m so sorry.” She pressed a kiss to his dirty scalp and cradled him. Erik was nearby watching the whole scene and soon stepped forward, his large hand resting on the diminutive shoulder of his lover. 

“What?” Charles’s capable fingers gripped Raven’s dress and she searched his face. “I don’t understand.”

“Your parents. Someone recognized them…”

The tears stopped. The young man shook himself away from Raven and staggered to his feet. “I--” A sob fell from his lips and his shoulders hunched. He was silent, his lips trembling as he stared at the table where Shaw had been sitting. He took the cup of tea in his hand all of a sudden and examined it, a thousand emotions flitting across his face before settling on disgust. He threw the cup to the ground and it shattered, spilling it’s poisonous liquid across the gorgeous marble. Raven cried out, startled, but Erik wrapped his arms around Charles, pressing his forehead into his shoulder and letting him tug and tear at Erik’s clothes as rage consumed him.

It was only a momentary lapse in control, because soon Charles had his arms wrapped around Erik and was laughing. His body shook with his laughter and he pushed himself as close to Erik’s body as possible. “We did it,” he whispered. 

“I love you,” replied Erik, pressing his lips to the crown of his head. 

“Charles.” It was Logan. He hadn’t left with the rest of them, and he was coming down from his seat at the head of the court. “This isn’t how trials are supposed to go, but our government is now usurped. I think, as second highest member of the remaining officials, that someone needs to be crowned ruler of the Realm.” He cast his dark eyes to Raven, who was at this point the reigning monarch. The other officials were rumored to have run off when they realized what had happened to Charles’s parents. “Your Highness, if you wish to relinquish the crown, it is your bidding at any time.”

She always looked like a queen, holding herself as an important and powerful woman in Shaw’s court, but she looked at Charles and Erik and how they held each other. They both looked at her now, apart but standing very close to one another, and Erik reached his fingers over to wrap around the little finger of Charles’s hand, and it was enough of a sign of their unity that the fondness that lit up her eyes was an answer.

“Charles Xavier,” she said, her hand reaching out to grasp one that had handled poisons and hand been cut and scarred and had seen all manner of things, rough and calloused against the soft hands of a truly noble woman, “Will you take from me the crown of the Realm and all the duties therein, becoming ruler of this nation, overseer of it’s military and economy and all of its assets, to protect and to serve it as long as you shall live?” 

To say that Charles expected this was a lie. He was exhausted. He had doubt that he’d even be able to lead effectively, since he had no real experience at it, but Erik gave him a nudge, a loving look in his eyes, and Charles’s lips parted at the soft, rare smile that played in his lover's eyes.

And he thought about the target this put on his back. There would be Mutants out there who would want him dead. He had hearts to win, and he wasn’t sure, if Shaw was any indication, that he could win them. They would be angry, and they would not shy at attempts to murder their king, but something else tugged at him. He wasn’t alone. He had Erik, and he had Logan and Raven and his parents’ closest followers. They could help him. 

“I do,” he responded, his face serious. “We must make preparations,” he said, grasping Erik’s hand in his, “But first, let us bathe and have breakfast before encountering the day ahead of us.”


	8. The Coronation Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Charles's coronation, mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, they bang.

It took a month before Charles could be coronated. Erik insisted that the party they would throw would be extravagant, and it was. He organized it at Lehnsherr Estate, where he spoke with all of the townspeople and they worked together to build up the opulence of the grand hall. Charles insisted on taking up his old room, so small and simple and he had to fight Erik on it, for he insisted on switching.

It didn’t particularly matter because they were together more often than not. Merely existing in one another’s presence was enough for them to slowly work their way back to one another. Erik was quick, needing a few days to forgive his lover for the betrayal that he had felt, but understanding the reasoning behind it contributed to his quick recovery. 

Erik knocked softly at Charles’s door with an hour to spare before they were to be downstairs for the coronation. It took a moment, but Charles did manage to pull the door open. His shirt was open half-way down his chest and his shirttails were out. He had just shaved and there was some irritation along his jawline and Erik masked a frown. He had to admit that he did enjoy the ginger beard that was licking its way down Charles’s jawline, but he supposed that for posterity, the young king ought to be clean-shaven.

“‘Morning,” greeted Erik. He cupped Charles’s cheek in his hand and considered ducking in a little further to seal their lips together, but Charles was distracted and toying with the hem of his shirt. Erik missed the eyes that refused to meet his, and he tilted Charles’s chin up to coax a look from him, but the near-king refused.

He broke away and went to busy himself with his bed. “I suppose I should make this the new palace,” he said, his back to Erik as he stared out the window. “It’s beautiful, really, and there’s the new land and we could develop it for those who have nothing. For the Xmeni, specifically, who have nothing. And I suppose we could have elections for a ruler, and not whoever happens to be the most powerful. I...I want you to--” When Charles turned around, tears were in his eyes but he had a soft smile on his face and he looked so lost that Erik was propelled forward. He wrapped Charles in his embrace, holding his head against his chest and threading his fingers through the overgrown hair. The tears didn’t burst forth, but Charles did squeeze Erik tightly, listening to his heartbeat as they stood together. “I was so scared for you.” His voice cracked and Erik released him so that they could look at one another. 

“I know,” replied Erik. “But we made it, and I do love you, and I’m sorry I doubted.” His hand was there again, rubbing the tears away. There was so much emotion filling his chest, from the protectiveness he felt as Charles cried to the love that he was dying to show him. He wanted Charles to know how much he cared, and finally, he pressed his lips to the trembling ones of his king.

Charles didn’t move. He let their breaths pass between them for a while, taken aback by the gesture, but not displeased. Erik had stilled against him as well, and didn’t move until Charles pursed his lips, kissing Erik back tentatively. His brow furrowed at the sensation because it had been so long since they kissed. Even when they had just returned from the trial, they were too exhausted and it had been too long of a day. Charles had fallen asleep on Erik’s shoulder, but that was as intimate as they had gotten.

Now, Charles was desperate as he kissed Erik, and a soft moan escaped him as his lips parted, allowing Erik to infiltrate his mouth. Charles bit down on Erik’s lower lip as he pulled away and they rested their foreheads together, merely existing in one another’s space. Charles ran his tongue across his bottom lip and sighed, pushing away and leaning against the windowsill apprising his rekindled love.

“I had missed it. I never knew how much.”

“Shall we continue?” The hope and the mischief in Erik’s eyes indicated a tempting alternative to Charles’s coronation, but the royal shook his head. 

“No, I don’t think so. I doubt Raven would let us get away with it. But when I’m king, I’m sure you’ll be the first to pay me my dues.” The lust that clouded Charles’s eyes made Erik squirm, capturing his lower lip with his teeth. “Now help me get dressed.”

~~~

Erik had to admit that the crown looked stunning perched on Charles’s head, as well as the cape they had thrown around his shoulders and the symbolic scepter he held in his hand. However, all of these things looked better thrown aside on a chair with Charles naked and asleep, curled into Erik’s side. The slender arm was thrown over Erik’s middle and Charles’s messy hair was splayed across Erik’s chest. His slumber was well deserved. 

After the coronation and dinner (a horrifically long seven hour affair during which Charles made three speeches), most of the guests retired and the others left for their homes, leaving Charles and the waitstaff (minus, of course, Brian and Sarah who had been locked up long before).

Erik found Charles in Erik’s room and he had already taken off most of his regalia, stripped down to the suit he had worn under his ceremonial clothes. It had been so long that he had had the heavy garb on that even now he looked naked, and perhaps it was the look on his face and how he stood because he looked so much more relaxed. He looked as if the sun was shining on his face and he lay under a tree, lazily looking up at whoever came by. Erik stepped toward him and traced his hand across the lapels of Charles’s jacket. The king’s breath hitched at the contact and soon Erik’s long fingers were palming his neck and their lips were crushed together.

Their kiss was heated and sloppy as Erik worked Charles’s clothes off, buttons scattered across the floor as the taller man’s eager hands tugged at his shirt, freeing the tails. His hands chased their way up his torso and Charles had to pull away to pant as Erik pulled the shirt off of his shoulders and coaxed his king back onto the bed. 

Charles lay there splayed across the sheets and Erik took a moment to catch his breath. With calculated movements, Erik unbuttoned his shirt and it joined Charles’s on the floor. He crawled across the bed and took Charles’s mouth in a bruising kiss, thorough as he licked and bit into Charles’s mouth and then breaking off to kiss down his neck. Charles’s capable fingers gripped Erik’s scalp and the harsh tugging drew a moan from him and Erik continued south, tongue swirling around the dip in his clavicle and fingers scratching down his sides.

As Erik’s lips wrapped around a hard nipple, Charles’s hips canted upward and the roughness of his trousers did little to hide the filling in his pants. Erik’s tongue was slick and wet as it swirled around the velvety hardness and the little bumps that surrounded the dusky nipple and he inhaled, taking in all of Charles’s scent, from his sweat where he had worn his clothes for so long to he heady smell of his arousal.

With one hand, Erik opened Charles’s trousers and freed his cock from its confines. His hand ran up its length and it wasn’t long before Erik had him in his mouth. He tongued at the slit and pressed an open-mouthed kiss on the head before opening his mouth to take Charles’s length all the way into his mouth. Charles’s breathy moans became more insistent and he panted as Erik sucked him, long and slow and thorough. Every synapse was on fire as Erik’s hands clamped down on those strong thighs. Erik worked his pants down around his knees, mouth slipping off his cock in order to let them fall to the floor. Erik’s pants followed and finally they were both naked. Charles’s eyes fluttered open and there was a fine ring of absurd blue that locked onto the icy gray and Charles’s cock twitched.

Charles shifted, tucking his feet underneath him and rising up on his knees to be level with the standing Erik. He leaned forward and captured his lips again, and this kiss was much different than the other ones, for Charles’s bruised mouth was soft and tender against Erik’s thin, slick lips. It was a few seconds, but that kiss was everything they were--hot, insistent, and filled with a tenderness that they hadn’t shared with anyone else. 

“Please,” said Erik, his hand trailing down his torso to wrap around his hard cock. “Let me…” One more kiss, and Erik fell to his knees and devoured that firm velvet, sucking and licking and his tongue doing things that Charles couldn’t articulate. He fell back onto the bed, not trusting his legs to keep him upright as he felt an orgasm pooling low in his stomach. The way that Erik’s lips moved as he had him down to the hilt and the feel of his nose buried in his pubic hair made his eyes roll to the back of his head and when he looked back down, Erik’s eyes meeting his, he noticed how flushed his skin was. He watched Erik as he reached down to squeeze his own cock. Charles’s hips canted off the bed and Erik had to shove him down in order to not gag on him. Charles’s balls seized up and the momentary twitch in his mouth made Erik moan around him and it was nearly a sob that filled the room when Charles came, hot and thick down Erik’s throat. Erik wasn’t far behind, his hand stroking and squeezing and his breath coming in hot bursts. His mouth clamped down on Charles’s as he came all over his ruler’s chest.

The white ropes of Erik’s seed sat on Charles’s chest and he felt heavy in the post-orgasmic haze. He trailed his fingers through and sucked them off, his eyes never leaving Erik’s face. Erik’s shirt that had been left on the floor served as a towel to clean themselves off. Once they were finished, Erik threw it forgotten on the floor and he was up kissing Charles again, long and slow and their tongues swirled but they kept the teeth for later. 

“Thank you,” said Charles, cupping his jaw and pressing their lips together. “It was too long, and I was so frightened that I would--”

“Please don’t,” replied Erik, wrapping his arms around Charles to help him stand, and then he pulled up the covers and helped Charles to bed. “Rest, my liege.” One more soft kiss to his forehead, and Erik found himself where we found him at the beginning of this chapter.

They hadn’t spoken of what happened that one morning. The fact that Charles had made it through the evening was something that Erik was proud of him for. They had their lives now, and if the sex they had just had was enough of an indicator, they were on for a very nice life together. They loved one another. That much was certain, and Charles could legalize whatever he wanted, but for now, the king was asleep and his lover was close behind, nestling down into the sheets and wrapping himself around the solid body of Charles Xavier, King of the Xmeni and the New Realm.


End file.
